


Long Time Traveler

by gunslingaaahhh



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: AU, Aliens, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-17
Updated: 2011-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-24 23:30:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunslingaaahhh/pseuds/gunslingaaahhh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>As prompted by [info]spikeslilbit : A/U Bunny. Danny's been missing for months noone has heard anything about his whereabouts until he shows up in oahu with no discernable memory of ever being a cop or Steve's Partner. He was thrust into a marriage with a kid, but its not Grace and Rachel he doesn't seem to remember his life before this predicament he's in. Wo fat or Hesse or some new Baddie can be behind it, and how he loses his memory is up to you.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As prompted by [info]spikeslilbit : A/U Bunny. Danny's been missing for months noone has heard anything about his whereabouts until he shows up in oahu with no discernable memory of ever being a cop or Steve's Partner. He was thrust into a marriage with a kid, but its not Grace and Rachel he doesn't seem to remember his life before this predicament he's in. Wo fat or Hesse or some new Baddie can be behind it, and how he loses his memory is up to you.

They're getting into position, adjusting TAC vests and checking weapons, Danny grumbling the entire time. Steve is barely listening, Danny bitching has become like a soundtrack for his life, just noise in the background. For all the bitching, things will be fine, just as they always are.

That's what he tells Danny before going in, of course, and then the bullets start flying, but what else is new? 

The case ends, they get their perps – typical scumbags, drug trafficking and child prostitution – and everything is as it should be, right up until Danny and Steve get back to Steve's house. Rather than get out and come inside for a beer, Danny just rounds the front of the car and slides in behind the wheel. Steve asks him if he's alright, but Danny just waves him off, smiles, and tells him he'll see him the following day.

When Steve's phone rings at an ungodly hour of the morning, the last thing he's expecting to hear is that a Camaro – with a license plate number he knows too well – has gotten into an accident and is wrapped around a tree. His heart is in his throat as he pulls clothes on and jumps into his truck, getting Chin on the phone and flying to the scene of the accident.

The car is quite literally wrapped around the tree, so much so that whoever was driving should've still been inside. Oddly enough, the driver's seat is empty, and upon inspection, the windshield isn't broken in a way that suggests the driver was thrown. Steve cases the area anyway, searching frantically in the dark. This is most assuredly Danny's car, with the right license plate number and some of Grace's things from school in the backseat. Danny, however, is nowhere to be found. Steve feels sick.

“Boss, he isn't here,” Kono says as she jogs over, eyes widening as she grabs his arm and muscles him into a sitting position. “Hey, deep breaths! Just because he isn't here doesn't mean the worst has happened.”

“I know, I just can't help but think--” Steve starts before Chin appears and cuts him off.

“Started processing the car, and get this: there's no blood. Nothing that would suggest Danny or anyone else was injured in the wreck. I can see maybe wiping down the dash and the steering wheel, but there isn't anything that can get blood out of upholstery.”

“That's impossible,” Kono says, eyebrows furrowing. “Look at the car! There has to be an injury, which might explain why Danny isn't here... what if he's got a head injury but not enough to bleed and is wandering around?”

“Or someone picked him up,” Chin added, thoughtful. “Saw the car and just took him to the ER.”

“Kono,” Steve says, but she's already on it, getting on the phone with local hospitals to see if anyone has seen a man fitting Danny's description. Sighing, Steve scrubs his hands over his face, muttering to himself.

“Say something, brah?” Chin asks, crouching down next to where Steve is sitting.

“Just... he didn't come in for a drink tonight like he usually does. Maybe he had a headache, maybe he was still mad at me for not waiting for back-up, I dunno, but it was weird.”

“Weird?”

“Just not typical Danny behavior as I know it.”

Chin hummed in response, standing and dialing out on his phone as an idea struck. Steve stared at him questioningly, remaining silent as the other end of the call picked up. After a few minutes the call ended and Chin sat beside Steve.

“That was HPD, I asked them if 911 could give us any information regarding the caller. Funny thing is, the call didn't come in through 911, it came in to HPD, right on their main line.”

“What? For an accident like this? That's--”

“Craziness, I know. They're gonna get the information to us ASAP. I'm with you, no one is going to casually call the main HPD number for an emergency like this, not for what could be a fatal accident.”

Steve blanched at “fatal,” and Chin gripped his shoulder, squeezing. The crime scene guys approached and said that they were going to have the car removed from the tree and taken back to the lab to be tested for evidence; Steve just nodded at them, giving them the go ahead without really paying attention. He was fearing the worst, but his teammates seemed amazingly calm. He couldn't wrap his head around it.

Kono reappeared, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Ok,” she said, sitting next to Steve, boxing him in between the cousins. “None of the emergency rooms have had anyone come in fitting Danny's description or potential injuries. The clinics are closed, so we'll have to wait until a more reasonable hour to call them, but I'm really thinking he wasn't hurt in the accident. I'm positive he's alive.”

“You can't be sure of that,” Steve said, shoulders slumping.

“I certainly can,” Kono snapped. After a beat she continued, tone softer. “There's no blood or anything else in the car to indicate serious injury, he hasn't shown up at a hospital... really, there's no evidence here saying that anyone died.”

“Let's head home and start fresh on this in the morning,” Chin said after a moment, standing and pulling Steve with him. “We're not doing ourselves or Danny any good stumbling around in the dark.”

They went their separate ways, and Steve drove home in silence, shutting the car off and locking everything up when he got home. He didn't sleep.

~*~

The week stretched on with nothing, and Steve was becoming increasingly more frustrated and nervous. He'd gotten in touch with Rachel, who hadn't heard from Danny, and could affirm that Grace hadn't either. It wasn't like Danny to not get in touch with his daughter, and the idea that someone took him, stole Danny away from them only grew stronger.

A week turned onto a month, which turned into six with nothing. The governor tried to get someone else in to take Danny's place, but he was shot down repeatedly until he did it anyway.

None of them lasted longer than a week or two.

The Williams family had wanted to have a funeral, because with no sign of Danny it seemed like he really was dead. Steve had balked, didn't want to do it, but he didn't have a choice. A service was held in New Jersey; Steve, Kono, Chin, and Jenna all attended, gritting their teeth through their tears. The worst was Grace's little face and the expression upon on it, one she directed right at Steve:* _how could you let this happen? How could you not fix this?_

He'd never felt so helpless in his life.

Things in Hawaii weren't much better; Steve still refused to believe Danny was dead, Kono and Chin were beginning to have their doubts, though they never expressed them. Doing so probably would've sent Steve entirely over the edge.

~*~

At the six-and-a-half month mark, Steve woke up and felt... empty. Every night he'd take stacks of files home with him to read until he passed out, trying to discern new leads from the information they'd already processed. More often than not he woke up with a headache and a feeling of guilt, because he was no closer to finding out the truth than he'd been the night before.

The worst part was that he was starting to have doubts now, too. The guys from HPD whispered behind his back about the insanity of his personal mission, Kono and Chin only looked at him with sad eyes and pet him on the shoulder, patronizing. He was sick of it, sick of everything.

Mostly he was sick of seeing the look on Grace's face every time he closed his eyes. He'd tried, once, after the funeral to go visit. Rachel and Stan had no reason to leave the island, so Grace was still living there. Rachel had admitted him to the house but told him not to expect very much. As it was, when she finally managed to coax the little girl down from her bedroom, she'd thrown a fit and had screamed at Steve, a tiny ball of whirling fury. After running out of items to throw, she'd run at him herself, tiny fists batting against whatever parts of him she could reach. He'd held her wrists gently, jaw on his chest and gaping at Rachel with wide eyes; Grace's shouts of anger had dissolved into angry sobs, punctuated only by 'your fault' and 'why wasn't it you instead' and 'I hate you.'

Rachel managed to snap out of her stupor and reached out to reign Grace back in, crying tears of her own. Steve stood in shock, his heart shattering like a mirror in his chest; Danny had made him promise once that, should anything happen to him, Steve would look after Grace, make sure she was taken care of. _How does he expect me to do that_ , he stood thinking wildly while Rachel and Grace collapsed against each other and sobbed, _how does he expect me to take care of someone who hates me?_

In the end he'd excused himself, almost wilting under Stan's angry gaze. He'd made it about as far as buckling himself into the truck before the hurt became too much and he broke down, sobbing. He folded his arms against the steering wheel and buried his face there, coughing and choking on his tears.

After regaining some shred of composure, he'd driven himself home, feeling sick and sad and so, so sorry.

It was remembering that look that finally did it for him, finally enabled him to make up his mind. He was going to get off Oahu for a while, maybe even go to the mainland, visit with his sister. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a great idea.

~*~

Telling Chin and Kono was harder than he expected, but they both just smiled, hugged him fiercely, and told him he had to do what he thought was best, and if that meant taking time off, then so be it.

Mary didn't believe him at first, must have asked him three dozen times if he was serious, if he was really coming to visit before a litany of “yes”s finally convinced her. It was settled, he was going to Los Angeles.

The flight was nothing special, and while the smog and pollution made him cough for the first few hours, overall his arrival was uneventful. Mary chattered incessantly about all the things they were going to do, the stuff she was going to show him, the people she wanted him to meet. Steve nodded and smiled in the right places, through in a “yeah” or a “that sounds great” periodically but didn't really contribute much.

Mary's apartment wasn't very big – he'd be sleeping on a classier version of Danny's fold-out – but it screamed “her” in all the ways Steve's house said nothing about him. It made his heart ache to see so much of her personality on display, made him feel that much more guilty about not really knowing her.

“Are you tired at all? Do you wanna crash or anything?” Mary asked, drawing him out of his thoughts.

“Um...”

“Cause I mean, if you're like, hungry or anything we can go out or order in... I don't really have any of that health food stuff you like, so we're probably gonna have to shop.” She buzzed around like a hummingbird, going from the fridge to the cabinets and back, opening and closing things as she talked. 

“Honestly, I'd kind of like to just... chill out for a while.” 

“That's fine! Hey, make a list of some stuff you want for like later and tomorrow morning or whatever, I have to run some quick errands anyway,” Mary said, digging out a notepad and a pen and thrusting them at him. “You can totally veg out on my bed too, if you want, there's a TV in there.” 

“Are you sure?” Steve asked, brows furrowing. Sleeping in his sister's bed felt weird. 

“Absolutely! That and, uh, I haven't put clean sheets on the fold-out yet.” 

“Ok, as long as you're sure you don't mind,” he replied, scribbling a few things and handing the notepad back to her. “You should be able to find that stuff at any supermarket, too, it isn't crazy.” 

“Says you,” Mary muttered before grabbing her keys and her bag. “Help yourself to whatever!” and with that she was out the door. 

Steve stood in silence for a minute, slowly turning in a circle to get a feel for the place. The layout was simple, allowing for an open floor-plan, which he didn't mind; apartment buildings always made him feel too big for his skin. 

A small entry way opened into the living room, where he currently stood. Off to one side was a half-kitchen, big enough to cook a meal as long as there weren't more than two people trying to work at once. The living room itself was a good size, with faux-hardwood floors and large windows overlooking the urban sprawl that was LA. 

There was a couch – *futon? Steve thought – with a coffee table and a comfortable looking chair in the corner. The entertainment center wasn't huge, just big enough to hold a TV DVD player, and cable box. The entire room was accented with bright colors, neon greens and blues and purples, which made Steve smile; she'd wanted to paint her bedroom colors like that when they were little, and his mother had thrown a fit. 

The futon looked pretty comfortable, all things considered, but he was pretty sure that beneath the slipcover there was just a cushion, which wouldn't be very conducive to sleeping.

Sighing, he sat down on the futon and unlaced his boots, taking them off and placing them underneath a side table, out of the way. Walking down the short hallway, he encountered a linen closet and other storage, a decent sized bathroom, and the bedroom. It was tasteful, or as tasteful as things got when Mary was concerned, and the bed looked like the greatest thing since sliced bread. Steve flopped down onto it unceremoniously and felt the stress of the last few months begin to leach out as he sank into the mattress. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, he didn't resist as his body began to free-fall into sleep. 

~*~ 

Hanging out with Mary was stressful at times, because she was so opposite of him and yet so similar. Danny liked to say he went looking for trouble, and Steve had argued that trouble was just really good at finding him. Mary, on the other hand, absolutely attracted trouble; it was in the curve of her shoulders, the way she walked, the way she spoke. Like is was her versus the world, and in a way, Steve realized that actually was the case, had been ever since their father had shipped them off. 

He'd been in LA for just under two weeks when he called to check in with Chin. 

“It's been pretty much dead here, brah,” the other man informed him. “We've had a few small things, offered our resources to a case HPD was working on, the usual. Kono actually did a talk at the high school, believe it or not.” 

“Oh yeah?” Steve asked, slightly shocked and overwhelmed with pride. “What about? How to properly take down a suspect with a diving tackle?” 

“If only – nah, how proper police procedure works, what due process is, where the Miranda rights come from, that sorta stuff.” The 'stuff that Danny said was important' is left unsaid, but Steve hears it anyway. 

“Good for her, it's good she's getting involved like that.” 

“That's what I said. How're things on your end? How's Mary?” 

“It's hazy all the time, and when I went to go for a swim at the beach I ended up getting harassed by a bunch of crazy college girls. Mary had come with me, to tan, and she'd just sat there and laughed! Didn't even try to help.” 

Chin was chuckling himself on the other end, and Steve's brow furrowed. Without Danny around, there was no one to explain 'normal' human interactions to him. Although he was pretty sure being accosted by too-tanned coeds did not qualify as “normal.” 

“Sounds like a good time, brah. We miss you down here, but don't think you need to run right back – the governor said you could have all the time you needed, remember that.” 

Steve rubbed tiredly at his eyes – it wasn't that late in the day yet, what the hell – and sighed. “I know, I remember. I'm not staying forever, but I might be here for another few days... maybe a week, if Mary has her way.” 

“Don't worry about it; let me know what's up for when you're on the way back.” 

The call ends and Steve flops heavily back onto the futon. Mary was at work, and she'd told him he didn't have to stay cooped up in the apartment if he didn't want, but the idea of wandering LA alone didn't do anything for him. 

That is, until he flipped on the TV and caught the tail end of a news story. The man being described sounded * _exactly_ like Danny, to the letter. On the edge of his seat now, Steve cursed when the news anchor moved onto the next story, running into Mary's bedroom to retrieve her laptop and look up the story just being discussed. After a few minutes he found it, and he wept, because staring back at him from the screen was a recent photo of Danny, * _his_ Danny. His hair was shorter and curling at the ends, and he seemed much more tan than Steve remembered, but none of that mattered – it was his Danno, alive and living in Los Angeles. 

Apparently, the man – who wasn't going by Danny, but by something else – was convinced there was some sort of conspiracy afoot, and when his wife told him to shove it because she was sick of hearing about it, he'd snapped. There had been damage to the house and property before LAPD had shown up to detain him. 

The wife – a pretty redhead with dark eyes – kept saying over and over that she didn't understand where this was coming from, he'd always seemed so normal. This had made Steve's jaw clench; Danny had been missing for less than a year, how could this woman say that? She didn't know him at all. He made a note to get more information on this so-called “marriage,” before moving on. There was a child also, a little boy with the same red hair, who looked no older than six or seven. It was like Danny had erased his old life and replaced it with a new one, fitting new puzzle pieces into the places where old ones once were. 

Information regarding the conspiracy he'd been going off about was scarce; he didn't like to talk about it much, for fear of who might be listening. What information was provided mentioned all kinds of things regarding Danny's ravings: governmental lies, the Illuminati, alien abduction. It made Steve's head spin and he wasn't sure what to do about it, short of asking Danny himself. 

The biggest problem was that Danny seemed to have no recollection of who he was, or who he'd been before. Resigning himself to the task, Steve left a note for Mary and set out to find whatever drunk tank was holding Danny. 

~*~ 

Things weren't going as smoothly as Steve had hoped, and he had to constantly remind himself that this wasn't Hawaii, he didn't have the same privileges. Sure, the people in LAPD respected his badge and title, but he still had to wait to talk to someone, still had to wait to sit down with a DA. It was frustrating, if nothing else. 

LAPD's chief had wanted to speak to Steve specifically, and so he'd gone, trussed up in his usual cargo pants, boots, and t-shirt. The chief had given him a side-ways glance and a frown, like he didn't approve, but Steve didn't much care; he was there for information. 

“You're a Navy man, right?” Police Chief Harlow asked, one bushy eyebrow quirked. 

“Yes sir,” Steve replied, trying to relax into his chair opposite the man's desk and failing miserably. 

“I see, and you're in the reserves while doing work for the governor in Hawaii... interesting. I have to say, you've got an impressive track record down there; what brings you to Los Angeles?” 

“Actually,” Steve began, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, “I was just here for a visit to see my sister. My reason for being here, specifically, has to do with a man LAPD detained about two days ago, for destruction of property.” 

“You don't mean the little conspiracy theorist, do you? The guy's a nutcase! Wife decided not to press charges, of all things, but since he's nuttier than a fruitcake the DA wants him evaluated and sent to the funny farm.” 

It's all Steve can do to not reach across the desk and strangle the fat, mustachioed man. He doesn't know Danny, doesn't have the right to say anything about him. 

“I was hoping to be allowed to speak with him.” 

“Why in sam-Hell would you wanna do a thing like that?” Harlow asked, incredulous. 

“Believe it or not, I think this man is my partner, who went missing a few months ago. He must have suffered some sort of brain trauma, which explains why he doesn't remember anything.” 

“Your missing partner.” 

“Yes.” 

“From Hawaii.” 

Steve just stared, waiting for the man to get to the point. 

“I hate to tell you this, Commander, but the likelihood of that being the case is... what, one-in-a-million? It's astronomical, is what it is. And say this is your guy: how in the sam-Hell did he get all the way from Hawaii to Los Angeles without any of your people noticing?” 

Harlow was bracing his arms on his desk now, leveling Steve with a look that said “you're probably nuts, too,” which wasn't that far-fetched; Danny had spent countless hours telling Steve he was crazy. 

“I don't have an answer for that, ok, I just want a chance to talk to him so I can see if he remembers anything; we can deal with the logistics later.” 

“Lord knows I shouldn't do this, but I'll put a word in with the DA and see if she'll be willing to approve your request. Last I heard, the guy was being evaluated coming up next week and based on the findings would be transferred to the appropriate facility. I'll inform you, regardless of what happens, how does that sound?” 

Steve told the man it sounded great, shook his hand, and left. He'd have to suffer through the weekend without any word of what was going on, but he was willing to wait if he got a chance to see Danny in person.

~*~ 

The building was the same dirty gray as the sky, surrounded by grass with bars on the windows. Apparently Danny's penchant for violence had put him in this almost-prison, surrounded by lunatics and orderlies with long needles. He was being allowed a visit, though, after explaining the situation to the DA. She hadn't quite believed it at first either, but Steve had shown her a picture of Danny and she'd been a bit more convinced. 

As he was lead through the corridors, Steve could hear various men yelling, crying, laughing, and muttering. It was disturbing. Danny wasn't doing any of that, though, was content to hang out in his room or have art therapy without so much as a peep. 

Steve was left at a table where he sat and waited. A minute or so later, an orderly guided Danny out, and Steve's heart stuttered in his chest. He was thin, muscles not as defined beneath his t-shirt, more deeply tanned, and his hair was much shorter, curling out from his scalp a little. It was still his Danny, though, despite everything. 

The orderly got Danny settled before rounding to Steve's side and bending to whisper in his ear, “dunno what you think his name is, but round here he tells us his name is Pete, so that's what you'd better call him.” Steve nods his thanks and focuses his attention on the man before him, watching as Danny's eyes take in the room, the orderly in the corner, the stack of books on a nearby table.

“Hi,” Steve said, keeping his tone light and even, friendly. 

“Hello,” Danny replied, an air of curious confusion developing around him. “Wasn't expecting a stranger when they said I had a visitor.”

Steve's chest aches at that, but he'd been anticipating it, so he merely smiled and pressed on. 

“Dan—Pete, I've got a couple of questions for you, if you don't mind.”

“Ok...” Danny said, brows furrowing a little. “It's not about my case, is it? They said I don't technically have one, since I didn't have to go to court.” 

“No no, nothing like that. This is actually for an investigation I'm conducting, very hush-hush, with regards to some... information... you may have.” 

Danny shifted his eyes over to the orderly before shifting them back, raising his eyebrows questioningly. Steve just stared at him, watching the pieces click into place and Danny's eyes go wide before he leaned over the desk, placing his palms against the smooth surface. “You... you know about *them?” 

“I... may. I need to know what you know first.” 

“Rat bastards,” Danny said, loud, before slamming a fist on the table. “Government likes to tell us there's nothing to worry about, that it's just weather balloons or aurora borealis or airplanes. I know the truth though, I’ve seen them.” 

“Seen—are you talking about aliens?” Steve asked, voice pitched low. 

“Shh!” Danny held a finger to his lips and his eyes darted about again, taking in the room. “I don't know how I know, I just woke up and did, ok? That doesn't happen by accident, it doesn't. It's like they transmitted to me or something.” 

There was a sinking feeling in Steve's chest, because even if his Danny was in there somewhere, he was going to have to claw his way through a lot of crazy to get out. 

“Let's derail for a second,” Steve said then, rubbing at his temples briefly. “Can you tell me about your wife? How'd you two meet, when was your son born?” 

“Not 'sposed to talk about them, y'know, in case they hear...” 

“I think we're safe.” 

“Ok... the kid isn't mine, she already had him when we met. It was like love at first sight, you know? Like I saw her and just knew. We dated for a month or so and before we knew it we were married.” 

“That fast?”

“Just seemed right, wife, kid. You got kids?”

“Uh, no, I don't. So you didn't know your wife--” 

“Sara.” 

“Sara, you didn't already know her? Just happened to meet her?” 

“She gave me a ride, actually. I was hitchhiking, it's legal here, and she picked me up.” 

“Hitchhiking?” Steve's ears perked; this could be promising. 

“Yeah, it's weird; I remember waking up on a bench at a truck-stop, but I have no idea how I got there, or where I was before, or anything. I didn't have anything on me, wallet or anything, just me on a bench. I was reading the graffiti and saw that someone had written 'Pete was here,' and figured it was a good name, why not use it? Then I started walking, and the rest is history.” 

“You have no idea how you ended up at that truck-stop? None?” 

“Nope.” 

Sitting back in his chair, Steve scrubbed at his face and thought hard. Amnesia would definitely make sense; what other reason would Danny have for not getting in touch with anyone besides forgetting who everyone was? Amnesia didn't explain how he went from Hawaii to California seemingly overnight, though, or why the need to have a wife and kid felt so right. *Unless he's got residual memory of before, Steve thought.

“What if I told you, I knew what happened to you before you ended up on that bench?” Steve asked, leaning forward again, keeping his voice down. He watched Danny's eyes widen with shock before narrowing mistrustfully 

“How would you know a thing like that? I've never seen you before in my life.” 

Steve retrieved his wallet and showed Danny the same photo he'd shown the DA. “This is you, six months ago, in Hawaii. You worked with me, we were partners. And this, this is your ex-wife, and your daughter...” Steve pulled photo after photo out of his wallet, laying them on the a table in a row. 

Danny's eyes scanned them, brows knit with confusion. 

“I don't know these people, I wasn't married before Sara, and I certainly don't have a kid with anyone!” Danny's voice rose in pitch with each word, panic tainting the edges. The orderly in the corner began to make his way over.

“Yes you do! Your name is Danny Williams, you are *Detective Danny Williams, you lived and worked in New Jersey as a cop before flying to Hawaii to be with your daughter. You're a part of my task force there, we work together, you're my partner.” The words were spilling past his lips, unable to be stopped, and part of Steve sensed how upset Danny was getting, sensed it and didn't care.

“Shut up, *shut up! My name is Pete, my wife is Sara, her son is Jacob! How do you know this, where'd those pictures come from? *Who are you?!” He screamed this last as the orderly finally got his hands on the smaller man and lifted him, dragging him back toward his room and a sedative 

Steve could only watch, helpless and horrified. He was sure he was going to get an earful from the DA about this, but he didn't care. This was Danny, alive and well – if not a bit muddled – and no way was he going to let the other man out of his sight.

His long legs taking great strides out of the building, Steve got on the phone with Chin and filled him in, easily able to picture the look of pure disbelief on the other man's face. He didn't quite believe it, either, but that didn't matter. He needed Chin behind him on this, and Kono, and Jenna and everyone else.

It pained him to do so, but he'd have to go back to Hawaii to meet up with the team, formulate a plan, and speak with the governor. If he had the governor at his back, it'd be a hell of a lot easier to get to Danny and get him out of that facility.

It'd be easier to remind Danny of who he was.


	2. Chapter 2

“He's convinced he was abducted by aliens,” Kono said, the words coming out slowly, like she was shocked she was even saying them. “That's--”

“I know it sounds nuts, but you didn't see him, ok. He's totally convinced, and when you add amnesia to that it's just... he's a mess,” Steve finished, slumping in his chair. He was in the conference room with Kono, Chin, and Jenna, all with a copy of whatever information Steve had gathered on Danny in front of them. 

“We need to look at this from a different angle,” Jenna piped up, removing her glasses and rubbing at the bridge of her nose. “Danny has amnesia for some unknown reason, and yet he told you, Steve, that being married with a wife and child just felt right, natural. Part of him, probably subconsciously, remembers his old life.”

“Then why didn't he remember me, or Hawaii, or New Jersey?”

“Emotional attachment?” Chin asked, flipping through the pages of his file. “He's incredibly emotionally attached to Grace, and deep down somewhere he probably does still care about Rachel. He was married for a long time, that doesn't just go away.”

Choosing not to comment on the fact that Danny should have emotional attachment to *him, Steve flipped through his file again. 

“There's something we're missing,” he muttered, eyes straining.

“You think? I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that Danny somehow made it to California without anyone noticing. He told you he didn't have any identification on him, right?” Kono asked, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table. Steve nodded and she continued. “Ok, so lets say someone took him, or something, and tried to put him on a plane. You can't board a plane without a form of ID, and unless he still had all his stuff with him, there's no way.”

“He might've lost it after,” Jenna added, grimacing at the look on Steve's face but pressing on anyway. “He doesn't have those things now, though, and I don't think its a coincidence, I think someone took those things from him and he doesn't remember, was probably unconscious when it happened.”

“Maybe the wife?” Chin asked, putting the page with Sara's information on top of his file. “Seems kind of strange to me that she'd be so willing to jump into marriage with a guy she picked up hitchhiking. Not only that, but she's a single mother with a young son; she's the last person who would be willing to let someone into her life like that.”

“He said he didn't know her until she picked him up...” Steve trailed off, a headache forming right between his eyes. 

They brainstorm for hours before just trying to put a case together, something the governor would approve. Steve's hope is that they can get Danny transferred back to Hawaii, to a facility in Oahu. It would be a long-shot, but it was a shot they needed to take. 

~*~ 

There was a lot of red tape to deal with, but somehow the governor managed to get on the horn with the DA working Danny's case, and managed to get Danny transferred to Oahu. It was a miracle, really, but the facility was better suited – less like a prison and more like a resort – and this way the entire team could have access to him. The hope was that even if he didn't recognize Steve, Danny might recognize the rest of the team. 

The only loose end was the wife, and Chin had his hands full dealing with her. She'd demanded to go to Oahu with her husband, citing that his emotional state could be compromised. The DA agreed and it was out of their hands. The only thing Steve put his foot down about was the press knowing about the transfer; because it was just local news in LA, it was highly unlikely Rachel or Grace or Danny's parents had heard or scene the news story. If the press got wind of the transfer, though, it could potentially turn into national news and that wasn't a headache he was ready to deal with just yet. 

The transfer went well, though Danny was wary to acknowledge anyone but Sara. One by one Jenna, Chin, and Kono had gone to sit down with him, in the hopes that talking with them would jog some part of his memory. Thus far the plan hadn't worked, although Danny did appear to follow Kono closely with his eyes whenever she was in his room. 

A week or so after the transfer had occurred, the team was sitting out on Steve's lanai, drinking and brainstorming. They didn't have much, but Steve was willing to let it slide purely because he had Danny back in Hawaii, where he belonged. 

“Something about that woman freaks me out,” Jenna commented, shivering. 

“Which woman, the wife?” Kono asked, brow furrowing. “I dunno, she just seems like a woman nervous about what's going on with her husband.”

“Something just doesn't seem... natural about it. I'm not sure what it is, but it doesn't seem right. Like something is out of place.”

“Out of place how?” Chin asked, leaning forward in his chair and placing his empty bottle on the ground. “Because I have to admit, she's weirding me out a little, too. She's too mechanical with her explanations of things, and usually that means she's got her story memorized or something, but I can't seem to pinpoint how or why that would be the case.”

Steve hummed in thought before taking a pull from his beer. “Memorized her story... like she's involved beyond what she's telling us? Isn't that what you'd said before, Chin? That she's got something to do with all of this?” 

“Yeah, because again, jumping into a relationship with a perfect stranger after picking him up hitchhiking? Come on! I mean, I know people do the whole 'shotgun wedding' thing, but that's usually after a year of knowing each other. This is barely that and on top of it, she knows as much about Danny's past as he does.”

“I can't see her being involved in taking him,” Kono remarked, twirling her beer thoughtfully. “But I can totally see her picking things up once he arrived in LA. Like what if he was kidnapped, whatever, and brought to that truck-stop on purpose? I can practically see it, ok, like there's a plane already fueled, it flies under the radar so no one notices. He's moved to a truck or something and at that point Sara is already there, she pick-pockets his stuff, leaves him on the bench, then just drives around until he wakes up and starts walking.”

Her theory is met with blank stares, and she resists the urge to let out a frustrated huff. Her idea is way more plausible than the alien abduction thing, that's for sure. 

“Wait, ok, hold on.” Jenna stood and began pacing, hands knotting in the fabric of her t-shirt. “Her being in on it would explain why she'd be so quick to accept a name he just picked out of some graffiti, why she'd rush through this whole 'relationship' they're supposed to have. Think about it: what would have happened if someone else had picked him up? He would've gotten picked up eventually, either by another driver or a state trooper or something. She had to have known that, and the only way to guarantee that she is his knight in shining armor – so to speak – is to be around, maybe watching him and waiting.”

“I just have one question,” Chin piped up, raising a hand. Everyone turned to look at him, and once he was sure he had the floor he continued. “Our theories are good ones, but we're missing something: motive. What is the motive behind kidnapping Danny, doing something to him that results in amnesia, and setting him up with a life in California? Obvious it's plausible, it *happened, we've seen the results. What we haven't seen is a reason as to why; we have no suspects that we know of, the DA didn't cite foul-play conspiracy to attempt murder or anything of the like.”

“Chin--” Steve started.

“I'm just saying, who would go through all of the trouble? Danny isn't a foreign dignitary, a religious figure, or a celebrity. In the grand scheme of things, he's just a detective. Why go through the hassle of kidnapping someone like him instead of, say, the governor?”

This question is met with silence, and Steve feels that old frustration creeping back to the forefront. In all of this, he'd been more concerned with the how, not even bothering to consider the who or why. He'd been so overcome with joy at finding Danny, there hadn't been room for anything else. 

“This is giving me a headache,” Kono said, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her temples. “I'm thinking we need to stop grilling Danny and start in on Sara. She knows more than she's telling, we need to figure out what.”

“She'll only shut down again,” Steve said, shaking his head. “She's going to start refusing to cooperate.”

“No one said she had to come,” Chin offered. “She came of her own volition. Technically, she doesn't have to do anything. Also, as Danny is more or less the center of an investigation, she shouldn't have access to him. She could be feeding him things, telling him what we're asking her, corroborating stories.”

“So we'll deny her access,” Steve replied, voice soft but hard edged. 

“Won't that further her lack of cooperation?” Jenna asked, confused.

“If she wants to see him that badly, she'll come to us. After all, it's us that'll be denying her the access to him. She'll come around eventually, we're just going to have to wait her out.”

~*~ 

Sara was proving to be a tough nut to crack, though there were some fault lines appearing. Steve was tougher, though when Sara came in for more questioning, he merely stood in the corner while Chin and Jenna took point on the interrogation. 

“I don't understand,” she said for what seemed like the thousandth time. “Why aren't you letting me see my husband.”

Jenna rolled her eyes with frustration, but Chin managed to keep his composure – as always – and leaned on the table with his forearms. “Listen, we're just trying to keep his best interests at heart, alright? Just like you. The doctors have said he's improved vastly since arriving, the cleaner air doing wonders to keep him calm. Isn't that what you want, Sara? For him to get better?” 

“Of course,” Sara snapped. “He's my husband, I love him.”

“We'd like to ask you some more questions about the particulars of your marriage,” Jenna offered, sliding into the conversation. “There are still a few things we'd like to clarify.”

“I've already told you everything.”

“You told Officer Kalakaua, but you haven't told us, and our questions are different,” Chin said, leaning back in his chair and flipping open a file. 

Huffing a sigh, Sara worried at the sleeves of her shirt before turning her attention to Steve. “Fine, I'll answer your questions... but not with him here,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “He makes me uncomfortable.” 

Jenna and Chin turned to Steve, who glared for a moment before nodding tersely and leaving the interrogation room. He came to stand beside Kono, who was standing on the other side of the one-way glass. She could feel the tension radiating off him, wanted to offer comfort somehow, but was afraid to do so. Steve was so tightly wound nowadays, it was a miracle he could walk. 

Conversation started back up again, and Kono focused her full attention on the proceedings. 

“Pete expressed to us that it felt natural to fall into a relationship with you, that it was 'love at first sight,'” Chin began, paging through the file in front of him. “Can you tell us more about that?”

“What more is there to tell? It was hot that day, too hot to be wandering along the side of the road. I pulled over, I'm a sympathetic woman, and let him into the car. We started talking to pass the time and it was like I'd known him my entire life.”

“What did you talk about?” Jenna asked, cutting in.

“Where he was from, what he was doing in LA, where he needed to go, those sorts of things. I figured he was a local, with the blonde hair and the tan, just had a break-down or something and didn't have roadside assistance.”

“A local, huh?” Chin repeated, frowning. “That's interesting, because to me, he doesn't have a local accent at all; not to Hawaii, not to California, not to the West Coast. In fact, he sounds more East Coast to me.”

“Did he say where he needed to get to?” Jenna cut in for real this time, shooting Chin a look before returning her gaze to Sara's face. 

“It's funny, all he said was 'where ever you're going.' He didn't have a real destination in mind. Of course, I'm not a fool, I did take him to the ER to be checked out and the police station. He didn't have any identification, I didn't want to take any chances.”

“And yet you married him,” Chin muttered, tossing the file onto the table. “I'm having a hard time understanding how that works, actually. It just doesn't seem possible for it to happen that fast; fall in love, have a relationship, get married. And what about your son? For all you know, this guy could've been a creep!”

“Obviously you haven't met your soulmate,” Sara said, tone condescending. “I have, with Pete. I wouldn't be here, fighting for him, if I didn't love him.”

Jenna made a little noise in the back of her throat before excusing herself from the room, going to find Steve and Kono. They were still watching, and both turned their eyes to her when she approached. 

“Well?” Steve practically demanded, hands on his hips.

“She's definitely lying... all the extra information she gave when I asked her what they'd spoken about? She knew damn well he wasn't local to LA or even California. I just... I can't listen to her spout that bull-crap about 'soulmates' and 'true love.'”

“Because it actually is crap?” Kono offered, eyebrows raised.

“When it comes to her, definitely. We don't live in an age where you can hitchhike or even travel without some kind of destination. You have to end up somewhere, somehow. No one hitchhikes for the fun of it, they do it because they need to get somewhere. He didn't have a destination because he was too out of it to even know where he was, I guarantee it,” Jenna finished, smacking the fist of one hand into the palm of the other.

“We don't know that for sure, and we can't hold her for anything without evidence,” Steve sighed, rubbing at his forehead. He froze then, eyes wide before turning and hurrying over to the surface table, fingers flying over it. Kono and Jenna looked at each other briefly before joining him. He was calling up LAPD contact information.

“Uh, boss?” Kono started, brow furrowed.

“Sara just said she took Danny to the police after she picked him, because he didn't have any ID. Hitchhikers are recorded when people bring them in, especially if they have no ID because they could be potential missing persons. If she really did bring him in, it'd be on record.” 

“Right, ok, I'll get on the phone with them and see what they've got,” Kono said on the way to her office.

“I wish there was a way to search her car,” Steve said, more to himself than aloud. “There could've been evidence of the kidnapping.”

“We'll get something, Steve, don't worry,” Jenna said, placing a careful hand on Steve's arm before going back to the interrogation room to help Chin.


	3. Chapter 3

Sara had finally crumbled and was willing to cooperate with the team in every capacity, as long as she got to see Danny. Steve made sure she had an escort, be it a member of HPD or of the team, in the event that she tried to feed him information. 

Kono had drawn the short straw and had to accompany on the first visit, sitting in the corner and trying to be as unobtrusive as she possibly could. She kept a careful eye on them, though, and tried not to let on that she was watching. 

Nothing about the couple in motion seemed natural. Sure, Danny was glad to see her, but it didn't come across as a husband missing a wife. To Kono, it felt a lot more like “I'm alone in this world and your's is the only face I recognize.” It was odd and Kono filed it away for later, when she would recount the visit for the rest of the team. 

The conversation wasn't anything too crazy; Sara told stories about Jacob and how he was faring, what the island was like, some of the places she'd gone shopping. The mention of Jacob had made Kono sit up a little, a tickle forming in her brain. She couldn't place why, but something about the child frustrated her. Another nugget of information for later, maybe the guys would be able to help her puzzle it out. 

~*~ 

Up until this point, Danny had been calm and relaxed in the new facility. He hadn't had a freak-out or episode, and the doctors felt good about him maybe being released on good behavior. Those hopes were thwarted, though, when Steve got a call from a man inside the facility. 

“McGarret.” 

“Hey brah, you're not gonna like this, but you're little friend? Had a relapse last night. Total meltdown.” 

“Meltdown, what? What happened?” Steve practically barked, hurrying out to the surface table and putting the phone on speaker so everyone could hear. 

“I dunno man, I wasn't on shift at the time, but from what I'm hearing? He went apeshit. Kept going on and on about the satellite transmissions for the TV or something, tried to tear the TV set out of the wall in the rec room. One of the orderlies said he even started going at it with the wall, to tear the cord out.” 

“What caused it, what triggered him?” Chin called, hands hovering and ready to type over the table. 

“Not sure; report says he was distressed all evening, barely touched his dinner, was agitated most of the day and was touchy to everyone in the rec room. The thing is, those TV sets don't get cable or satellite or anything; there's a DVD/VCR in another room that the cords connect to through the wall. All they play are old movies and TV show reruns.” 

“So it wasn't like an ad or news broadcast would've upset him,” Steve said, scrubbing at his face. 

“No, brah, nothing like that.” 

“You don't remember what was playing last night, do you?” 

“Like I said, I wasn't there, but whoever is in charge of the AV stuff usually keeps a log of what's played and when, I can find out if you think it'll help.” 

“Please,” Jenna called, frowning. 

“Sounds good, be in touch,” and there call ended, the man disconnecting. 

The team glanced at each other for a minute, thinking, before Steve picked up a chair and threw it across the room, a half-grunt, half-scream forcing it's way past his lips. Chin moved to grab his arms, guiding him towards the office, leaving Kono and Jenna by the table. 

“It's so weird,” Kono murmured, hands fluttering over the surface table, typing. 

“What is?” Jenna asked, eyes darting to follow the movement and watch the screen. 

“Remember how Sara had a visit this week? I was there, they didn't discuss anything strange, so unless they were speaking in code, it seemed legit. Something about it bothered me, though, but I couldn't figure out why.” 

“Do you think Sara's visit has something to do with Danny's episode?” 

“Maybe... he seemed completely fine when we left, looked a little lost, but otherwise sane.” 

A few photos had appeared on the screen: Sara's driver's license, a passport photo, a copy of a birth certificate. 

“What're you thinking?” Jenna asked, moving closer to the screen to eye the documents. 

“Sara said she had a son, right? Jacob? Well, I've been thinking it's kind of weird how we haven't seen him. This woman uprooted her life to follow Danny here, and I would assume that means she took her son too. He's young, under ten years old.” 

Jenna turned, a strange look on her face. She removed her glasses and pinched the bridge of her a nose, a small tic that said she was composing herself. 

“Are you saying you think Jacob doesn't exist?” 

“No! Or, well, if he does he isn't a little boy. Sara is new to the island, she doesn't know anyone, it isn't like she'd be able to find a sitter... he'd have had to accompany her here at least, if not everywhere she goes.” 

“But she's always been here alone, and she visited Danny alone.” 

“Right, so when she was talking about him to Danny, something about it set me on edge, and now I know why: we've never seen him.” 

“A kid that young isn't going to have any sort of identification, he wouldn't be in any database unless he was a missing person.” Jenna was pacing now, hands folded across her chest as she spoke. “Unless his school was involved in one of those preemptive programs.” 

“Like what?” Kono asked, cocking her head to the side a little. 

“It's a newer thing I guess, not sure how many schools do it, but basically parents can opt to have their child's school picture put on a card with some information and added to a database in the event the child is abducted. It gives the police something to work with and the ability to circulate the child's photo more thoroughly and quickly. The information can't be too invasive, of course, because the kids are minors, but if I remember correctly the little cards have things like age, sex, height, and address on them.” 

Kono's fingers fly over the keys again, looking up the school district in Sara's neighborhood in LA. Clapping her hands and hooting with triumph – the schools in the area did participate in one of the programs Jenna had mentioned – she began searching for someone of Jacob's description. 

“That's weird, none of the schools in Sara's area have any record of a Jacob Hiller,” Kono muttered, chewing her bottom lip slightly. “Doesn't mean he doesn't exist.” 

“Private school?” Jenna offered, squinting at the screen. 

“Nah, Chin looked up her bank records, just for the heck of it, and there was nothing there to indicate she was sending someone to a private school or that she could afford it. And I'm willing to bet if they do have an anti-abduction program in place, it's way more beefed up than the public school ones.” 

“As much as it pains me to say this, there might be a good chance Jacob really *doesn't exist. And if he doesn't...” 

“You said Sara was lying before about knowing Danny was from the East Coast; who's to say she isn't lying about everything else?” Kono thumped her fist on the edge of the surface table. “What is _wrong_ with this bitch?” 

“A lot, apparently,” Jenna muttered as Chin and Steve finally emerged from Steve's office. 

~*~ 

The digging into Sara Hiller's life revealed a few things: her name wasn't really Sara Hiller and her entire identity was a false one, and that Jacob really didn't exist. 

A problem arose from this information, which was the fact that _Danny_ believed it. He refused to acknowledge their evidence, even had to be sedated when it was suggested that Jacob was a figment of someone's imagination. 

Steve had felt bad about doing all of that to him, but he'd needed to know what Danny was aware of and what he wasn't. He was also glad to see the look of righteous indignation on the other man's face when he was presented with the team's findings; classic Danny. 

It was a step in the right direction, though, because Sara had come storming into HQ on what would've been her visiting day with Danny. She was fuming, beet red to the roots of her hair. Steve put on his calmest face as he approached her. 

“Ms Hiller, what seems to be the problem?” 

“Cut the shit, McGarrett, you know damn well what the problem is! Why is my husband refusing to see me? What have you done to him?” the woman raged, white spots appearing on her cheeks. 

“ _We_ haven't done anything to him,” Chin said from the surface table. “Though I'm not sure I can say the same for you. We only told him the truth.” 

“The truth?” Sara shouted, voice shaking the glass. “The truth about what?”

“That you aren't who you say you are,” Steve said, grinning slightly, a hard look in his eyes. 

“And that you don't have a son, or any children for that matter,” Kono added, coming to stand beside Steve with arms folded and a hip cocked out. 

“You—you--” Sara stammered, rage and embarrassment writ clearly upon on her face. She began to back slowly towards the door she'd just stormed in, but was cut off when Jenna appeared behind her, a firm grip on the woman's elbow. 

“You're gonna sit down and tell us the truth,” Steve began, waving a hand to cut her off when she opened her mouth. “No more of this garbage. I want the truth or we'll throw you in holding, maybe we can arrest you for obstruction of justice.” 

“Obstruction of--” Sara spat, furious. 

“You're hindering our missing persons investigation,” Chin called, a smug smile on his normally placid features. 

“A one Detective Danny Williams,” Kono said, coming to stand right in front of Sara, a photo of Danny in hand. 

Sara's eyes darted around the room, taking in every face before finally settling her eyes on Steve. Her eyes narrowed, and her lip curled across her teeth in a snarl. 

“Fuck you.” 

~*~ 

It took every ounce of restraint Steve had not to punch the woman in the face after she'd said that. Instead, he'd gone back to his office and paced, taking deep breathes while Chin muscled Sara into the interrogation room and cuffed her to the chair. 

Steve was the only one who hadn't questioned Sara; after the first time she'd asked that he leave, he'd just watched from the other side of the glass. Not this time, though, this time he was going in alone. 

He practically slammed the thick file of evidence onto the table, causing Sara to jump a little. He sat down opposite her, folding his hands neatly and settling them on the table top. She glared at him, eyes burning fire. He stared right back, face carefully blank. If she thought she was going to win this little staring contest, she was dead wrong. 

“Tell me what you know,” Steve finally said after minutes of silence. 

“Fuck yourself,” Sara replied, chin tilted in defiance. 

“Listen, we already know your identity is a stolen one, it's only a matter of time before my team figures out who you really are. It didn't take them long to figure out Jacob. I want to know what you did to Danny, how you made him forget who he is, why he thinks you have a child he's never actually seen but believes he has.” 

“I'm not telling you a damn thing, I want a lawyer.” 

Steve sighed; he'd been waiting for that. The new governor liked him, he did, he liked the team and what they were doing, but if he found out they were holding a woman and questioning her without probable cause? The shit would hit the fan, obstruction of justice aside. 

Thank goodness for Chin, who chose that moment to enter the room and toss some freshly-printed documents onto the table. 

“Those,” he began before sitting down next to Steve, “are the records of the _real_ Sara Hiller. That's her driver's license, her social security card, a copy of her mortgage. Funny, there are credit cards and things opened in her name but, it says here she died twenty years ago.” Chin folded his arms across his chest and quirked his eyebrow at the woman across from him. 

“Care to explain that?” Steve asked. “Because now we have sufficient evidence to charge you with something, and we can hold you for the next twenty-four hours.” 

“Charge me with that?” 

“Identity theft,” Steve said with a shrug. “Doesn't matter. What does matter is that you're stuck now, so you might as well talk.” 

Sara's jaw worked as she stared at the evidence on the table. Her face said she was shocked and pissed; she'd thought she'd been careful, had covered her tracks every step of the way. Of course, she'd never been on the receiving end of Five-0's particular brand of police work, so that showed how far she'd gotten. 

“None of this has anything to do with Pete--” 

“Danny, his name is Danny,” Steve cut her off, slamming a fist on the table. Sara blinked at him and sighed, resigned. 

“Fine, *Danny, if that makes it better for you. This? Doesn't have anything to do with him.” 

“We think it does though,” Chin said, leaning forward. “You went through an awful lot of trouble to fabricate this story, this life. He believes it, which is the part I can't wrap my head around.”

“Or he _used_ to believe it,” Steve interjected with a smirk. “Since you're here instead of with him, I'm assuming he's not so inclined to believe it now.” 

Sara said nothing, just scowled at the men across from her. Chin and Steve shared a look before standing, Chin moving around the table to uncuff Sara from the chair. 

“Take her down to holding, she can think on it for a little while and see if she doesn't decide to tell us what we want to know,” Steve said, Chin nodding in accordance and guiding the woman out. 

“You're making a big mistake in keeping me here!” she shouted over her shoulder, eyes wild in her head. 

Steve watched her go, grinning like a shark at her back. 

“Yeah, well, not as big as the one you made when you decided to fuck with my family.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Chin was the one to visit Danny after the first showdown with Sara; the sight of Steve might set him off again. 

Armed with some information from the man who'd called Steve before about the relapse and a few other things, Chin checked into the facility and made his way to Danny's room. He'd called in advance, in the event Danny wouldn't be allowed visitors; he'd been well behaved since the freak-out with Steve, but the staff were walking on eggshells with him anyway, just as a precaution. 

Stopping just inside the door to Danny's room, Chin took a quick glance around. Despite his penchant for frustrated violence, Danny was a well behaved patient and so had been afforded certain privileges: he'd been allotted extra furniture, making his room look more cozy and inviting, had been allowed to decorate with random things, express himself. 

Currently the room was stripped bare of everything except for the bed and a small table and two chairs. The bed was bolted to the floor, and the table and chairs were the flimsy, fold-away kind. 

“What'd you get up to in here, brah?” he asked. Danny was sitting on his bed, staring at the wall and startled when he heard Chin's voice. He gazed at him warily, eying the other man's armload of paper. 

“They took my nice furniture and left me with this crap. Apparently one isn't allowed to show any sort of emotion except for 'I am catatonic' around here,” Danny quipped. Chin smiled; classic Danny. 

“I'm sorry to hear that, man, really.” 

“You're not here about that, though.” 

“Unfortunately no, but I can say something if you want. I'm here because your wife caused quite an outburst at our HQ earlier this week. She said you'd refused her visit.” Chin took a seat in one of the chairs, placing his things on the table. 

Danny slowly came to join him, still wary. “Yeah? Well, your buddy had some not-so-great news for me when he was here, so lets just say I wasn't too thrilled to see her after that.” 

“Oh yeah? Interesting you'd take it to heart, all things considered.”

Danny's brow furrowed. “Why would you say that?” 

“Well, Sara's your wife. Just figured you'd be more inclined to side with her than with a stranger.” Chin's eyes watched Danny critically, wishing he bore into the other man's head. 

“Yeah, well, you'd think.” Danny scrubbed at his face with his hands. “I just... you guys are the police, right? Well, you and the girls are, at least. Your friend isn't just police, he's fucking military and I know the government likes to lie and whatever, but you guys aren't government. Your friend... Steve... he's done a lot of work to get me here, for some reason. I dunno, I just can't see any reason for him – or any of you – to lie to me.” 

Keeping his face a composed mask, Chin resisted the urge to upset the table and pull Danny into a hug; if not for the setting and the circumstances, this would be a perfectly normal conversation with a friend. The amnesia wasn't gone, and they still had no idea what had happened to him, but Danny's skills as a detective were fighting their way out and he was working around the problem with the same determination. He'd also proved that he knew their names, was keeping track of them. It was a little thing, but Chin knew Steve would be ecstatic. 

“You're absolutely right, we _don't_ have any reason to lie to you. And we haven't been. I've got a few things I'd like to ask you, and I want you to be as honest as you can be.”

Danny nodded, eying the paper spread out on the table. Steve had told him about the whole 'Sara isn't really Sara' thing, had mentioned the fact that Jacob didn't seem to be real, despite the fact that a photo of him existed. It hurt him to think this woman would lie to him, after more or less being his saving grace; it frightened him more that he'd so easily accepted the things she'd told him. 

Chin plucked out the print-outs of the documents Sara had forged and set them side-by-side with the real Sara's information. 

“It might seem like a huge undertaking, but fabricating a life and taking someone's identity isn't as difficult as you might think. There are a lot of people out there with the means to create fake IDs, forge documents like birth certificates, et cetera. Your wife didn't do this herself, she had help, but the help she had? Was excellent. Look, the differences are so minute you'd have to be an expert to tell.” 

It was true. Sara's driver's license looked completely legit. There were things that couldn't be faked, but she'd managed to avoid the sort of trouble that would require an authority figure to examine her ID closely. 

“So she took the identity of someone who is dead?” Danny asked, frowning. “How? Wouldn't something come up if the person is dead?” 

“Not always,” Chin said, shaking his head. “People open credit card accounts under the names of the deceased all the time; it's called ghosting. It takes a while for the credit card companies to notice, and in Sara's case, they hadn't at all. Normal ghosting involves racking up all sorts of charges, usually big expenses. Sara uses her card sparingly, if at all, just enough to keep her credit in tact. She wasn't making extravagant purchases so the credit card company never noticed.” 

“That's out of control. What about the government documents?” 

“Same thing, she had help. I've seen some decent forgeries before, but these are perfect. You'd have to be really, <i>really</i> good to notice the minute differences. Unfortunately, the fact that they are so good means it might be impossible for us to track down who created this stuff for her.” 

“Ok,” Danny said, leaning back in his chair and smoothing his hair a little. “So you guys have proven that my wife is a fraud, I married a fraud. If she isn't Sara Hiller, then who is she? Who the fuck am I?” 

“I'm getting to that,” Chin said sympathetically, shuffling through his papers. “So far, she hasn't popped up in any of our databases. That isn't uncommon; some people out there know all the tricks for flying under the radar, off the grid. We have a theory, and we think that she's involved in something much bigger, something that – for whatever reason – involved you too. That something could easily have erased any records of her from before, which is why it was so easy for her to assume the identity she has now.” 

“You guys have no idea who she actually is?” Danny asked, shoulders slumping. 

“No. I'm sorry, we're working on it.” 

“Why would she lie about her son? I don't understand how someone could lie about having a child. What about his picture?” 

“We think that picture is just a random photograph of someone else's child. He's got the same coloring as Sara, so it'd be easy to believe he was her son.” 

“I must be a nutcase, I have to be. He was in the car with her when she picked me up, man! I remember! How can that be if he doesn't exist?” Danny was beginning to get hysterical, and Chin felt panic start to creep in. There was one other thing he'd wanted to discuss, but if Danny started freaking out the session would be cut short. 

“Hey, hey! Calm down, brah. You aren't a nutcase. There is probably a very good reason for what you think you remember. The brain creates false memories and images all the time. We can talk about that later, if you want. There's something else we need to discuss, though, ok?” 

After a few deep breathes, Danny shook himself and met Chin's eyes. He folded his hands in his lap and looked at Chin expectantly. 

“I need you to think back a few weeks. We got a call from an orderly, a friend, who said you'd had an... episode, after seeing something on the TV in the rec room. I don't want you to get upset again, so if we need to stop, tell me, but I need to know what was on the TV. Do you remember?” 

There was a pause as Danny's eyebrows furrowed in thought. It was strange, he remembered being in the rec room that night, watching the TV with some of the other patients and just relaxing. He didn't even mind that they didn't get cable; someone from the community had generously donated quite a movie collection and so they had quite a few to choose from. 

What he couldn't remember was what happened after the orderly in charge that night had flipped on the TV. He could hear the static of the TV booting up, the movement of fabric as some of the other patients got comfortable, but after that it was just... black. He told Chin as much. 

Chin was a little taken aback, but manage to keep his composure. If Danny had in fact had some kind of fit, it was possible he'd blacked out and wasn't aware of his actions. It would explain the blank gap from the time in the rec room til when he woke up in his bed, at least. 

“That isn't the only time, though,” Danny murmured, slouching low in his chair. “There've been others.” 

“Other what, other black outs?” Chin asked, even more concerned now. 

“Yeah... like right before I woke up on the bench? That's the biggest gap; there are smaller ones, during the time when we were living together, Sara and I. I can remember sitting in the living room, watching the news or reading the paper, closing my eyes, and opening them and being in another room. It'll be hours later, and I have no idea what happened in the interim.” 

As he speaks, Danny's eyes get wider and wider, darting around his small bedroom. 

“Did you talk to Sara about this at all?” Chin asked, brows furrowed in confusion. He'd heard of people losing time, minutes here and there, but hours like that? 

“I'd tried, a couple of times. She said I'd probably fallen asleep and then sleep-walked. That doesn't cut it for me, though, you know? I don't know how I know this, but I don't think I've ever sleep-walked in my life, even before, in the stuff I don't remember. Then I thought maybe it wasn't that I was losing time, but that it was being taken from me, you know, by _them_ ,” he whispered conspiratorially, rolling his eyes skyward. 

Chin covered his face with his hands, rubbing at his forehead with his fingertips and breathing deeply. The abduction theory thing was something he'd been researching, against his better judgment. Countless people had reported things similar to what Danny was describing, but no hard evidence had ever been discovered. What evidence did exist was usually obtained by dangerous means, like the psychologist in Nome, Alaska. She'd hypnotized patients who'd had trouble sleeping, coming to find out that things were happening to them in the night, things they weren't aware of when they were awake. 

He shuddered to think about it; he was a rational human being, for Christ sake, he couldn't just accept this as fact. There had to be another explanation. 

“That theory aside,” he began, looking Danny in the eye and keeping his voice calm, “what else do you think it could be?” 

“Um... well, your friend Steve is convinced I have amnesia or something. It could be a residual effect from that? But I don't think I bumped my head or anything, and I was examined in an ER, they didn't find any head wounds.” 

“Let's not think about it right now. I've got to go; you did a great job,” Chin said as he began to stand, gathering up his papers. Danny stood with him, looking slightly lost. 

“I couldn't answer your question, though.” 

“That's ok! It was just a lead we were thinking of following, that's all. You look a little beat, brah – why don't you lie down?” 

“Yeah, that's – I will, thanks.” Danny turned towards his bed and flopped down onto it. Chin sighed and headed out the door, frowning as he replayed their conversation in his mind. Danny didn't turn to watch him go. 

~*~ 

Steve was still having a hard time sleeping, though it was getting increasingly better with Danny back in Hawaii. Ever since the night of the Phone Call, he'd been sleeping badly, fearful he'd get another, similar call. It was silly, an unwarranted fear. 

That's what he kept telling himself, anyway. It worked to a point, though when his phone rang at two in the morning on the evening following Chin's visit with Danny, he was hard pressed to find any relief in the thoughts. 

“McGarrett,” he rasped into the receiver, rolling out of bed and pulling on pants with one hand and a shirt with the other, while he cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder. 

“Steve? We've got... we've got a situation,” came Jenna's voice down the line, wobbling in a way that had nothing to do with the call quality. 

Steve paused, head and one arm through his shirt, the other hanging out the bottom where it held the phone glued to his ear. Jenna sounded scared. 

“What? Where are you guys?”

“At Danny's facility. He's – Steve, he isn't here.”


	5. Chapter 5

The words had no sooner left her lips and flooded his ears before he was rushing down the stairs, boots and keys in one hand, phone in the other. He was on auto-pilot the entire way to the facility, steadfastly ignoring any sort of traffic protocol. 

The rest of the team was waiting for him when he arrived, all looking ashen. 

“What the fuck is going on here?” he practically barked when he saw them. “How the hell did he get out without anyone seeing?” 

“That's the part that doesn't make any sense,” Kono piped up, eyes huge. “We reviewed the security footage and... he never left the room. I mean, he never opened the door. It was closed the entire time.” 

“What about the camera inside?” Steve snapped. 

“It...” Chin started, trailing off as his eyes glazed slightly; he was drifting. Kono snapped her fingers under his nose and he shook himself, coming back to them. “It shows him in bed, then there's a light that floods his window. It's so bright, it washes out the entire room, keeps it like that for at least two minutes before it fades. When the camera finally adjusts, the room is empty.”

“Impossible,” is the immediate response out of Steve's mouth. He observes the features of each team member, noting their deer-in-headlights expressions, the pale color of their skins, the minute trembling: they're in shock. “I want to see this footage,” he says, and that brings them out of their reverie long enough to move into action.

The nurse's station had the necessary equipment and Steve had just thumbed the tape into the VCR when he heard yelling from down the hall. He and the team followed the sounds until they were standing outside Danny's room. Steve felt bile rising in the back of his throat; someone in the room was in hysterics, and that someone sounded a terrible lot like Danny. 

~*~ 

The head nurse for the evening refused to let anyone see him; the team protested, Steve was ready to kick the door in, but the nurse was steadfast in her resolve. 

“I'm sorry, I know you're concerned and believe me, we don't understand what's going on either, but believe me when I tell you: that man is in no condition for visitors. He's been sedated so he can stop moving long enough to catch his breath and try to sleep. An orderly is staying in the room with him, just in case.”

The tone of voice said she was brooking no arguments, so Steve marched back to the nurse's station to retrieve the footage. He was going to watch the shit out of it, over and over if he had to, until he figured out what the hell had happened. 

Of course, nothing could ever be easy; Steve was on his way to HQ to make use of the tech there when he got a call from Chin:an incident similar to Danny's had occurred in HPD's holding cells. Sara was still there, per the requisite twenty-four hour holding period. A guard had gone down to check on her and had done a double-take when he'd seen that her cell was empty. All hell had broken loose until about an hour after the fact, when she'd been found back in her cell, wide-eyed and babbling to herself. 

Steve had pulled over to take the call, and sat with his head resting against the steering wheel. Chin had agreed to meet him at HQ, he should get a move on, but he was finding it increasingly difficult to move. He was just so tired, so sick to death of all of the craziness. He wanted it to end, wanted everything to be like it was months and months ago. 

Well, that wasn't exactly true. Of course he wanted Danny back, he wanted their normal lives... he also wanted Danny, plain and simple. Had wanted him for months, had been trying to explain it away and just couldnt. He loved Danny and that was all there was to it. He didn't even care anymore if Danny felt the same way, he just wanted his partner and best friend back. 

Steeled with new determination, Steve put the truck in gear and drove the rest of the way to HQ, refusing to let this go down without a fight. 

~*~ 

It's the fifteenth time he's watched the security footage, and if he has to see that sudden bright flash <i>one more time</i>, he's going to punch something. 

“Steve? Earth to Steve, do you read,” Chin's voice interrupts his thoughts, and Steve lifts his head to stare at the other man. Chin looks as tired as Steve feels.

“Yeah, sorry I just... I can't get over that <i>light</i>,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “His window is pretty high off the ground, it isn't like someone could flash something in there, even if it was perched on top of a truck or something like that.”

“It also looks like it comes into the room,” Chin offered, voice soft. 

“In?” 

“Yeah... I don't know how to explain it, exactly, but Jenna and Kono said the same thing when we watched it earlier. The light looks like it starts outside the window, but then gets brighter because it's <i>entering the room.</i> And honestly, running parallel to that thought is the thought that the light is just a distraction.”

Steve frowns down at the surface table, brows knitting together. It would make sense, a light that bright messing with the security camera in Danny's room. If someone wanted to sneak in or out, all they'd have to do is time how long it would take for the camera settings to even out. 

“A distraction for what, though? Is there footage from the hallway?”

“There is... um, it kind of...” Chin trailed off, suddenly nervous. Steve felt a knot grow in his stomach; he'd known Chin a long time, and this was probably one of a very small amount of instances when he'd seen him so ill at ease.

“What is it?” Steve asked, keeping his tone soft.

“I'll just show you,” Chin said as he cued up the tape and hit 'play.'

The image was spliced, the inside of Danny's room on the left, the hallway outside of it on the right. Each door had a small window, and Steve could clearly see the brightness of the light spilling out of that window into the dark hall. That was all well and good, of course, save for the fact that while the light was flashing, Danny was going missing. 

The inside of Steve's head was full of clamoring noise; before he knew it he was sitting down in a chair with his head between his knees and Chin's cool hands gripping the back of his neck. 

“Are you ok? Jesus, Steve, don't do this now,” Chin was saying, sounding a little frenzied.

“N-no, I'm fine, I just--” Steve started before his eyes went back to the screen, where the footage was playing on a loop. He knew for a fact that the light was a distraction and during that distraction someone took Danny. He also knew that at the same time, the light could be seen from the hall, but _that was it_. 

The door to Danny's room never opened. No one went in or left during the time Danny would've been missing from his room. 

“Impossible,” Steve found himself saying again. “There's absolutely no way, no, I refuse.”

“The windows have bars,” Chin supplied, sounding oddly mechanical. Steve realized that Chin was trying to distance himself from the situation enough so that it made sense; a coping mechanism. 

“No way he could've gotten out that way, is what you're saying. Fucking... fuck! How, then? How the hell does a grown man leave his room and then enter it without anyone seeing him?”

Steve was yelling but he didn't care. Everything about this whole situation was making him sick. He'd never been plagued with anxiety, was always confident in his abilities to take care of things, deal with things. He was comfortable with how his world worked and what went on in it. This case, though, this whole shitshow with Danny was slowly but surely challenging everything Steve thought he knew. He liked to think he was rational – even though Danny could've argued eight dozen points as to how that was <i>not</i> the case – and everything about the scenario he and Chin weren't talking about was completely irrational. 

The older man was watching him a bit warily, the way one watches an unpredictable dog. Steve felt bad about that, he did, but at this point he was exhausted and lacking the self control he needed to not blow up over every single thing. Feeling defeat slump his shoulders, he told Chin to pack it up. 

“Are you sure, Boss?” the other man asked, eyes searching Steve's face.

“Yeah. We're beat, and I want fresh eyes on this tomorrow. Jenna and Kono will be a big help, but I want all of us analyzing this thing. That and we need to figure out what to do about Sara and Danny.”

“I'll put a call in before I leave for HPD to forward any information they have regarding Sara to us, ASAP,” Chin said as he walked towards the door. “Actually try and sleep, Steve, ok?”

“I will if you will,” Steve countered, trying for levity but failing if the look on Chin's face was any indication. They said their goodbyes and headed to their respective vehicles, Steve idling in the parking lot. 

~*~ 

“You slept here, didn't you,” Chin said later the next morning once they'd assembled back at HQ. Steve glared at him before softening his gaze and glancing down at himself.

He hadn't intentionally slept there, he'd just been so tired that he'd passed out in the back seat of his truck, curled over on his side. He was wearing the same clothes from the day before, had some considerable stubble, and a kink in his lower back from sleeping in such cramped quarters. In short, he looked like hell. 

Before he could say anything with regards to the matter, Kono came storming out of her office, a shark-like smile on her face. 

“I just got off the phone with HPD about Sara. She's on the verge of being catatonic, so she isn't talking. However, HPD's security footage shows more or less the same thing happening to her as it did to Danny; she had nothing to do with his disappearance last night.”

“That's great, except wait, no it isn't because now we can't charge her with anything, we can't keep her,” Steve said, practically whining. They hadn't had much to hold her on anyway since they couldn't exactly prove that she'd had anything to do with his kidnapping, and this little incident only widened the gap. 

“Honestly, I'm glad she's getting some karma out of this,” Kono replied, leaning her hip against the table. “She's probably traumatized and I'm sure this makes me sound like a bitch, but I don't care: she deserves it.”

“I have to agree,” Jenna added as she approached. “This chick has been nothing but a pain in our collective ass since the get-go. The only downside is that if she really is catatonic we can't pump her for information.”

“How's Danny doing, has anyone checked in with the hospital?” Steve asked, scrubbing at his face.

“Just got off the phone with them. He's awake, he's talking... and he has no recollection of the night before. It's like it never happened, like it was--”

Chin's eyes widened as he moved to cut Jenna off. “Like it was blacked out? He was telling me yesterday that he's had a few of them, where he feels like he's lost time here and there. I think it was a stemming point for the psychosis that got him on the news.” 

“That helps a whole lot,” Kono quipped.

“There is a way to help him remember, if you guys are feeling open minded,” Chin said, glancing around the room. 

“And that would be?” Steve asked.

“We could put him under hypnosis. Some therapists use it as a way to get at repressed memories, as a means of helping the patient let go of a past trauma their brain boxed away. The subconscious is always running in the background, like a computer, always storing information. Even when the conscious mind tries to pull an 'out of sight, out of mind,' the subconscious remembers.”

“Is that safe?” Jenna asked, brow creased with concern. “It won't mess him up more or anything, will it?”

The team spent the better part of the afternoon discussing hypnosis on and off before realizing that even if they were going to proceed with that tactic, they'd need a specialist, and Chin was pretty sure the facility Danny was currently in didn't have anyone on staff with that sort of training. Not that he couldn't find someone, it would just take time. Steve wanted to act in the moment, though, and it took all of his will power to give the team the day. He'd slept badly, as he had been, the girls didn't look like spring roses themselves, and Chin looked like ten miles of unpaved road. As much as Steve wanted to dive right into this, he knew things would only blow up in his face if he didn't allow his team to attend to their needs first. 

He told himself that first thing the next day he'd pay a visit to the hospital HPD had carted Sara off to and inquire about her condition, before seeking out some other 'specialists.' It was a nice perk sometimes to have friends within the various branches of the military and the government, though he was sure this particular request was going to earn him some odd looks, if not outright refusal. 

Steve was just going to have to be extra persuasive. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Sara's condition proved to be most fragile. She had somehow managed to suffer some sort of spinal cord damage, making her unable to move her legs. Steve asked her attending nurses and doctors how that could've happened, and they'd just shrugged.

“There are a variety of ways an injury like that could be sustained,” Dr Raimen said. “Car accident, a fall, diving injury, all of those things and a myriad of others. Considering that this woman was allegedly alone in a jail cell makes it a bit more difficult to ascertain where her injury came from.”

Steve had startled at “alleged.” No way was HPD ending up on the hook for this, not on his watch.

“Doctor, there is sufficient security footage proving that all of the officers were in the break room when the event occurred. It is time-stamped and everything, untampered with.”

Dr Raimen had just shrugged again, eyes scanning his clipboard. “Regardless, it is still too soon to tell how bad the damage is. She is more or less catatonic and therefore unresponsive, which doesn't help us.”

“Thanks,” Steve muttered before turning on his heel and leaving the hospital, clenching and unclenching his fists. To be honest, he didn't give a single fuck about Sara or whoever she was; the idea that the same thing that had happened to Danny had also happened to her had given rise to the idea that maybe, just maybe, she could explain a few things. Unfortunately that was not to be the case.

He wanted to visit Danny more than ever now, though, especially because he hadn't been injured. He might not have any conscious recollection of the night before, but that didn't mean he wouldnt be able to recall it with hypnosis.

Danny's nurse gave Steve a critical look when he arrived but allowed him to visit, sternly telling him that if Danny so much as uttered a peep of being upset, the session would be over. Steve agreed, nodding and shaking her hand, grinning like a shark before entering Danny's room.

He was sitting in one of the flimsy chairs, staring out the window. The facility gave the patients actual clothes to wear, jeans and t-shirts and sweaters, but today Danny was clad in pajamas and a bathrobe. It made him look frail.

“Hey, buddy! You gave us all quite a scare last night,” Steve said quietly by way of greeting. He pulled the other chair over and sat down a small distance away.

Danny slowly turned to look at him, and Steve gasped slightly: he looked terrible. Sure, they'd done stakeouts and things, and Steve had seen Danny on little to know sleep, but this was different. Deep purple smudges sat beneath bloodshot blue eyes, a gray pallor hung beneath tanned skin. His hair was a wild tangle around his head, and Steve noticed that the other man's nails were bitten down all the way to the quick, pink and tender.

“Everyone keeps saying that,” Danny muttered, eyes drifting back to the window. “I have no idea why. But you do, right? That's why you're here.”

“We reviewed the security footage, from the camera here in your room as well as in the hall,” Steve started, voice pitched low and soothing. “Some crazy stuff happened.”

Danny barked out a harsh laugh, hands coming up to twist in the folds of his robe. “Crazy stuff? I told you people there were things we shouldn't talk about, because _they_ would hear us, but you didn't listen to me. Because of that, I had another fucking blackout and my wife is in the hospital with a spinal cord injury that might result in her never walking again. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

“It was a bright light, it messed with the camera and faded out the room. We couldn't see who took you,” Steve said, trailing off, feeling a little out of his element.

“Oh yeah? Well, my research on the subject tells me that's one of the ways they take you.”

“Take?”

“Abduct, steal, kidnap... pick one, it's all the same thing.”

“... listen, we're thinking that it might be a good idea to try and... use hypnosis as a means of helping you remember. Maybe not the blackouts necessarily, but what happened to you before all of this.”

Steve finishes and sits there, watching Danny watch him. The other man regards him critically, those pinked over blue eyes searching for something. Eventually Danny huffs a breath and slumps in his chair, defeated.

“I don't know how much you know about this shit works, but that might not be a good idea. See, a therapist tried that a few years ago, up in Alaska, as a continuation of some other work that was being done. She found out about some stuff she wished she hadn't, and the people she put under? Got up to some bullshit after they remembered what had purposefully been locked away by their own minds. I've done a lot of reading about this, Steve, ok? And listen, I appreciate all the work you and your team have been doing, I really do, but it needs to stop. Aside from the blackouts, I was fine before. You show up and shit gets blown to hell.”

A hysterical part of Steve wants to laugh at that, because its true: things tend to blow up when he's around. He resists the urge, though, leaning forward in his chair to keep eye contact.

“Do you remember when we first met, and I told you what your real name was? You cannot honestly believe your name is still Pete after all this.”

“You called me Danny.”

“That's your name, Danny Williams.”

“I want to believe you, especially after all of the bullshit with Sara, but...”

“But what?”

“Let's say – strictly for the sake of argument, now – that I agree to this hypnosis nonsense. I don't want to lose my shit and go crazy. I don't care if the aliens took me and probed me or stuck things all up in my crevices; I don't care. I can't lie and say I'm not curious about my life before Sara and Los Angeles, though. So, if I allow this craziness, can you promise me that, without a doubt, whoever performs the hypnosis will only ask me to remember what happened before?”

“I...” Steve starts, trailing off. He is monumentally curious about the blackouts, but he also wants his Danno back, and if that means only dipping into the mystery surrounding his disappearance then so be it. “I'll do the very best that I can, and find the best doctor that I can. No crackpots, no magicians – a real, honest-to-God therapist who truly knows what they're doing.”

Danny nods, seeming to accept this. “Where and when? Because no offense, but I doubt they'll let you do that here. I also doubt they'll let me _out_ any time soon, all things considered.”

“There're a few people I can get in touch with that might be able to help in that regard,” Steve replied, grinning a little.

“What, some of your military—actually, you know what? I don't wanna know, don't tell me because you, my friend? You are slightly more than crazy and I do not need to know. Just, come get me when it's time.”

“Sure thing, partner,” Steve says as he stands, resting a tentative hand on Danny's shoulder. He turns to leave, feeling like he has a purpose and that the team is finally going to get their answers.

“Danny Williams,” he hears Danny say as he exits the room. “That's me, but who the hell am I?”

~*~

As predicted, every person Steve tried to contact within the psychology field turned him down. It wasn't that hypnosis couldn't be practical, it was more the fact that Danny had already proven to be disturbed and putting him under might only cause more damage. Steve was well aware of this, of course, and even went so far as to mention that the patient in question had offered his consent.

It didn't matter, none of them agreed. Growling with frustration, he banged the phone receiver against the desk a few times. He had all sorts of information regarding various doctors and practices spread out before him. Most of them were from the mainland, although there were a few from the islands. None of them had agreed, though, and certainly none of them had offered information regarding someone who could help.

A knock came at his door and Steve looked up, confused until he realized that he'd drawn the blinds of his office. He called out a “come in” and turned his eyes back to the mess in front of him.

“Steve?” Jenna called, approaching the desk cautiously.

He flicked his eyes up to her and leaned back in his chair, stretching a little. “What's up?”

“You mean aside from you being a hermit? I was calling around to a few friends with connections to this sort of... thing, and I got a few more numbers of doctors. All of them do the hypnosis thing, and a few them specialize in it.” She handed over a print-out with a list of names, addresses, and phone numbers. Scanning it quickly, Steve grinned when he realized none of the names were duplicates.

“Wish you'd said something before, would've saved me the trouble,” he said, grinning at her.

Blushing a little, Jenna smoothed at imaginary wrinkles in her pants. “Yeah, sorry, wasn't sure if you were in the mood to be disturbed. Good luck with those!” and before he could respond, she was darting out the door, closing it firmly behind her.

Shaking his head a little, Steve began making his way down the list. It took him the rest of the afternoon, having to constantly tell and retell Danny's story and the events surrounding. Each of the doctors had to turn him down for one reason or another, until he got to the last one. The name sounded familiar, and he typed it into a Google search. While a few dozen links to crap popped up, a reputable one popped up as well, and Steve could feel his eyebrows vault off his forehead.

Dr Michael Grindon was in his mid twenties, quite young to be so successful in his profession. He'd turned out to be the best in his field when it came to hypnosis, helping dozens and dozens of patients. He'd written papers on the subject, all of which had been published in various medical and psychological journals. The more Steve read, the more he wanted to meet the guy: many of the patients Grindon had dealt with claimed much the same that Danny claimed, that they'd had blackouts and had been taken by aliens. There wasn't anything on the findings – doctor-patient confidentiality – but there was contact info, quite a bit more than Jenna had found.

Heart pounding, Steve scanned the doctor's personal information. He was practicing out of southern California, but frequently traveled to assist the more disturbed patients when and where he could. Punching in the number, Steve listened to the phone ring once, twice, three times before a cheerful woman answered the phone.

“This is the office of Dr Mike Grindon, my name is Jessie, how can I help you?”

“Yes, hi, is Dr Grindon available?”

“He's with a patient currently; are you looking for an appointment?”

“Possibly. I have a friend—a colleague who is in need of Dr Grindon's services and I was hoping to discuss that with the doctor specifically.”

“Unfortunately Dr Grindon books rather far in advance; he doesn't have a spot open until--”

Steve could feel his patience wearing thin. He didn't want to be angry at the young woman, she was only trying to do her job, but the Navy side of Steve's brain was telling him that this woman was the one barrier standing between him and the completion of his mission.

“Miss? I'm sorry, you don't understand. My name is Lt Commander Steve McGarrett and I need to speak with Dr Grindon as soon as possible, directly. Now, I can either wait on hold until he's through with his patient, or you can take a message and have him call me immediately. Whichever way it goes, it is imperative that I speak with him regarding my colleague. Do you follow me?”

There was silence on the other end, Jessie's nervous breathing puffing along the line. He heard her compose herself before replying that as Dr Grindon had just begun his current session, it could be at least an hour before he was through, but she'd be glad to pass along any contact info. Steve rattled off his cell phone number and a repetition of the instructions to call him immediately. Jessie agreed profusely to make sure that happened and then hung up. Sitting back in his chair, Steve rubbed at his face. There was a little something bubbling up in his chest; it felt like triumph and the need to laugh, to scream in victory. It was too early for that, much too early; Danny needed to remember who he was and what he did before there could be any sort of celebration. This was a good start, though.

~*~

Steve was at home, glaring at the contents of his fridge when his phone went off. It was the generic ringtone and his heart was in his throat; it might be the doctor.

Snatching up the device, he barked a “McGarrett” into the receiver.

“Am I speaking to the Commander McGarrett?” a young man's voice asked.

“Yes; am I speaking to Dr Grindon?”

“Indeed! Sir, I'll have you know, you have my secretary quite the scare. She was beside herself when she gave me your message.”

Steve winced. “Yeah, sorry about that... I just didn't think she understood the gravity of the situation.”

“It's fine, she needs to be kept on her toes. Now, while this is after my usual practicing hours, Jessie made it seem like things were urgent; what seems to be the problem?”

Sighing, Steve wracked his brain for where to start. “It's kind of a long story, actually...”

“Just start at the beginning, Commander.”

“Well, see, my partner disappeared over six months ago and...”

He spent the better part of an hour explaining what had happened, their research in the case, the funeral, all of it. Grindon listened, only interrupting here and there to clarify something before pressing Steve to continue. When he'd finally finished, he waited, fidgeting, to see what the good doctor had to say.

“I have to be honest, here, Commander--”

“Steve, please.”

“Alright, Steve. I assume you've read up on me, and as such you know where my specialties lie. I've dealt with some pretty... over-the-top characters in my practice, heard a lot of wild stories... but nothing like this. This is so out there it cannot possibly be fake, and I will have you know that I looked up the news-story you mentioned, and found it. What your team has done to find this man is incredible.”

“Thank you, he means a lot to us,” Steve replied.

“It's obvious you care about him very much, and for that reason – as well as my own curiosity – I am willing to make some arrangements to treat your friend.”

“Are—really?”

“You sound surprised,” Grindon chuckled.

“It's just that it seems like a lot to do for someone you don't know,” Steve said, brows furrowing as he fiddled with a fork on the counter top.

“I've traveled all over the world to help people I've never met, Steve. I specialize in alleged abductions for a reason: no one else will listen to these people. Their stories and descriptions are written off as drunkenness or drug use, mental illness or trauma. I can't lie, sometimes that's all it is, but sometimes? You find someone that deeply, _truly_ believes this thing happened to them, and they are so convinced they can barely function. They need the help, the closure, and I do my best to give that to them.”

“Danny said he didn't want to discuss his blackouts following the initial break in his memory, he said he didn't care if the... aliens... had done things to him. To me it feels like he's accepted that it's happened but he doesn't need to know the particulars.” Steve was pacing now, phone glued to his ear.

“I suppose that's reasonable... although there is no way to know if that has anything to do with his disappearance. If it does, then what?”

“Hmm, well it isn't like we'd have any idea, so that would be no one's fault. We'd still be respecting his wishes.”

“My thoughts exactly. Alright Steve, it's a bit late here so I'll let you go, but be aware that I will be calling again soon with an update of my arrangements. I want to get down there as soon as I can.”

“That is fantastic news, doctor,” Steve said, grinning fit to split.

“Mike, if you don't mind.”

“Ok, Mike. Thanks again for this, really.”

Grindon chuckled again. “Don't thank me yet.”


	7. Chapter 7

It was another week before Steve heard from Grindon, and it felt like the longest week of his life. The footage from HPD showed much the same phenomenon happening to Sara as had happened to Danny, although it seemed a bit more violent. A few of the officers reported that the building had felt like it was shaking.

Her injury proved not to be too debilitating; with enough physical therapy, Sara would be able to walk again. The doctors were counting it as a win, though they were still casting icy glares in HPD's direction. The injury to the spinal cord had shown a sort of ripple effect to the area surrounding; Sara's attending doctor had theorized that she'd been twisted to the point of rupturing the cord and causing the injury. Steve didn't really want to think about that.

When Grindon called, he informed Steve that he'd be able to fly out in another few days, and he was making arrangements at a hotel nearby. Before he could finish trying to pronounce the name, Steve blurted that the doctor could stay with him, it wasn't like he didn't have the room.

“That would be very kind of you, Steve, but--”

“No, Mike, I insist. I'm pulling you away from your regular patients and schedule for this and myself and my team truly appreciate it. That and there might still be some red-tape to deal with in terms of actually getting in to see Danny.”

“Such as?”

“The facility where he's been staying isn't exactly thrilled with my task force right now.”

“I'm sure they'd be loathe to turn away such a high profile doctor,” Mike said, a grin in his voice.

Steve shook his head, though he knew Grindon couldn't see him. “I'd like to keep this as low-key as possible. If there is a away to treat Danny outside the building, that would be best. Their security system is a good one and I'd prefer for this not to be on a surveillance video.”

“That might be tricky, but I'm sure we'll come up with something.”

Flight times and arrangements confirmed, the call was ended and Steve sank back into the cushions of his couch. A spring dug uncomfortably into his back and he shifted to rid himself of the irritant before sitting up and cranning his neck to look at the piece of furniture. Frowning, he let his gaze wander around the living room.

He hadn't changed much of anything since being there; everything was more or less the way his father had left it. He didn't usually think about it, moving from one room to the next with purpose, not distracted by the decor. Now, though, it was bothering him. Getting some more comfortable furniture for the living room wouldn't hurt anyone, especially once he got Danny back.

That was another thing: Danny. For all everyone knew, he was dead. There had been a funeral and his parents had done a memorial burial for him in New Jersey, complete with grave marker. Rachel and Grace were finally beginning to heal; finding out that Danny was not, in fact, dead but very much alive would tear all of their worlds apart. Groaning, Steve scrubbed at his face. His thinking had only ever gone as far as getting Danny back, not what would happen after. He couldn't even begin to imagine what Danny's parents and siblings would feel, how Grace would react. He didn't want to reopen their wounds, but he couldn't keep Danny being alive a secret, either. Not when his own daughter was living on the same island.

“One thing after another,” Steve muttered to himself as he got up off the couch and wandered into his dad's old office. He'd set up his laptop in there and sat down to search affordable furniture stores in the area. His ultimate end-game, the one he hadn't revealed to anyone, was to have Danny come home with him. No doubt he'd need rehabilitation, a quiet space to come back to himself in, and Steve wanted to provide that for him.

Hell, if he was being honest with himself, he wanted a hell of a lot more than that. He'd been trying to figure out the best way to tell Danny how and what he was feeling, right up until the night the other man had gone missing. Talking about his feelings was difficult, but when it came to Danny, Steve wanted to scream it from the rooftops, tell anyone and everyone willing to listen. His love for Danny filled up all his hollow, empty spaces with joy and laughter and sunshine, something he couldn't remember ever feeling before. It made him ache a little to think about it, and conducted his online search with renewed vigor. He was going to transform his house into a comfortable, relaxing place to live. He'd have to move quickly, he wanted everything to be perfect and ready before Danny came home with him.

Smiling a little, he started to bookmark places to check out.

~*~

“Have you told him I'm coming?” Grindon asked as he accompanied Steve into the facility where Danny was staying.

“I mentioned that I was going to find someone, and that I'd let him know what the next step was.”

“I see.” Grindon looked much younger in person than he did in his pictures, but what he lacked in age he made up in brilliance. Steve had never met someone as bright as this man, who was so aware of everything around him. He'd talked non-stop about the different techniques he could employ, Steve doing his best to pay attention and drive at the same time.

Danny's usual nurse was at the nurse's station when they got to Danny's corridor. She gave Grindon a critical look before turning her attention to Steve. “Good morning, Commander. He's having a good day today; try not to muck it up.”

As she walked away, Grindon leaned over and muttered “she seems nice.”

“Oh yeah, she's a peach,” Steve said, pursing his lips. He put a hand on Grindon's shoulder and guided him towards Danny's room. The man in question had gotten some of his nicer furniture back, as well as the things he'd been using to decorate his room. He was dressed, his hair somewhat tamed, and he looked to be in good spirits. Steve was beyond thrilled.

“Danny? This is Dr Mike Grindon, and he's going to help you.” Steve introduced the young doctor, watching as Danny's eyes traveled over the young man's face.

“Hi, I'm Danny apparently,” he said, shaking hands with Grindon. “You do this sorta thing a lot?”

“More often than you'd think,” Grindon replied, taking a seat in a chair nearby. “We aren't going to do very much today besides talk. I like to get to know my patients as a means of figuring out the best course of action.”

“Ok,” Danny said, sitting opposite the doctor, eyes flicking to meet Steve's before returning to Grindon.

“First, I'd like for you to tell me what you remember.”

“With regards to what? I remember waking up in Los Angeles somewhere and living my life with a woman who became my wife but isn't who she said she was.”

“You have no recollection whatsoever of your life prior to arriving in LA?”

“Nope.”

“How did you get to LA?”

“I have no idea; like I said, I woke up there.”

Grindon retrieved a notepad and pen from an inner pocket of his sport coat, scribbling. He nodded thoughtfully to himself before continuing. “When you try to think back beyond that point, what happens? Do you get headaches, is it blank?”

“Uh...” Danny trailed off, eyes going to Steve again. Steve smiled slightly, trying to be reassuring. “If I think about it too hard, I get a headache, yeah. Mostly it's just... fuzzy, you know? Like when you hear a song or see a face and you know you know the name, it's on the tip of your tongue, but you can't think of it. I have clear images in my mind of LA, but fuzzed out puffs of nothing of anything before.”

“That's good!” Grindon said, smiling himself. “The information is there, it's just buried. With my help, you will be able to access them and then remember. I have to warn you, though, it can be a grueling process. It isn't like pulling back the veil; your brain is going to receive quite the workout as a means of reining in your subconscious memory.”

Danny smiled back, albeit tentatively. “Just the things from before, though, right? I told Steve I don't need to know what's going on during my blackouts.”

“There is a real possibility some of those things will slip in, but I'll do my best to stick to your prior memory,” Grindon assured him, scribbling in his notepad again. “Ok, Steve alerted me to the idea that conducting our sessions here might not be the best idea. I'm thinking of signing you out and taking you somewhere quieter.”

Danny's eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Will they let you do that?”

“I'm a doctor, I'm going to be treating you,” Grindon said, shrugging. “I doubt they'd have a good reason to tell me no.”

“I have a doctor here too, though,” Danny mentioned, frowning. “He's kind of a dirt-bag actually. I mean, he gets the job done, but he isn't personable, not like a good doctor should be. And, well, he doesn't really seemed too concerned about my 'long term health,' as he calls it. Doctors are in the business of making money – no offense – and this guy wants to keep me here for a while, I think. Pays his bills and all that.”

Grindon sighed, running his hands through his dark brown hair. “Many medical doctors are slaves to the pharmaceutical companies, unfortunately. And while a doctor running this sort of facility would like to keep it stocked with patients, that isn't realistic. Yes, some patients require long term care, but this doesn't strike me as the sort of establishment to delve into that sort of care. You are a low-risk patient; at least, you were before all of these... circumstances. This is a low-risk hospital and for that reason signing you out for some out-patient care shouldn't be too much of an issue. If it is, there are ways around it.”

“Is that something that will take time to figure out?” Steve asked, shifting his weight. He was impatient to get this show on the road, so finally know what had happened to Danny that night so many months ago.

“That depends on the director and the staff who run the place,” Grindon replied, shrugging. “I'm sure a man in your position can easily get in touch with the director and inform him of what we'd like to do. I have no problem meeting with him myself; in fact, that will more than likely be the course of action we take. As long as the patient's best interests are kept in the forefront, everything else should fall into place.”

“Says you,” Danny muttered.

“Things are going to work out, Danno, you're gonna get your life back,” Steve told him, smiling hopefully. Danny regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, cocking his head.

“Danno? What is that, some kinda nickname?”

Heart clenching painfully, Steve nodded. “Yeah, something like that. Hopefully Dr Grindon's help will get you to remember that.”

“I'd like to,” Danny said, eyes flicking over Grindon again. “It's pretty obvious I had some kind of life here, working with you and Kono and Chin and Jenna. And you guys obviously care about me, so in my mind, that makes things damn well worth remembering.”

Steve smiled again, the big goofy one, because Danny just sighed heavily and shook his head, grinning. They excused themselves then, armed with tasks, and told Danny they'd be back when they had leave to sign him out.

Feeling better than he had in weeks, Steve walked with Grindon back to his truck, a bounce in his step. It wasn't until he was digging his keys out of his pocket that he realized the doctor had been speaking to him. He turned and ducked his head, smiling apologetically before asking the doctor to repeat himself.

“I was only asking if you knew of a location for the hypnosis. Usually, I work with patients in my office or a neutral area of their choosing, a hotel or something of the like.”

“Would my home be ok?”

Grindon frowned, thinking. “No... not that there isn't sufficient room, but that house is full of memories and energy, both of which can conflict with a person's subconscious. You worked with this man, you've had him in your home before; no, it isn't a good idea. A neutral location works because there isn't anything hanging over the patient's head, so to speak. You were showing me the photographs in your living room, a few of which are of you and your team. Things like that... well, I'm just saying I don't want Danny to conjure up false memories because he's in a place he's obviously been before but doesn't recall. That and while you may not mean it, you'll be more emotionally invested in a place where you've spent time with him.”

Steve tried his best to absorb the information and answer – no, most decidedly no – and not pout over it. He was going to suggest Five-0 HQ, but that wasn't a good idea either, for the same reasons as his home. No, they were going to need somewhere new.

“I have an idea, let me make some calls,” he said then, digging out his phone as they got into the truck. He was certain Chin and Kono had a cousin who could get them a beach house here and there to use for a short time.

~*~

The director of Danny's facility was a tiny, white haired Island native with deep dark eyes and the biggest, bushiest eyebrows Steve had ever seen. He was also almost unbearably kind, listening intently to Grindon's plan of action. He nodded here and there, interrupting only to ask a question before allowing the younger man to continue. Once done, he and Steve waited anxiously for the older man to decide.

“Pete,” the man said, using the name they'd been given when Danny was admitted initially, “is a very bright man. Every day, I get reports that he's telling his nurse some new story of something he's remembered. They are only pieces of a whole, and he is frustrated by this. It is in his frustration that the desire to lash out lies, and when that overtakes him, he can be destructive, both to himself and his environment. I am willing to allow this treatment, because I truly think it will help him overcome his obstacles. However, I need to know that he will be safe; some people deal well with hypnosis, and some do not, Dr Grindon, as I'm sure you are aware.”

The director leveled a gaze at Grindon before standing and moving about his desk, going to his window ans gazing out of it.

“Sir, I can give you my word that this man's safety is my top priority,” Grindon said, eyes shining. “Commander McGarrett and I only want the best for him, and we've set up a safe, comfortable environment in which to treat Dan—Mr Hiller.”

“There is no doubt in my mind about that,” the director replied, turning his kind eyes on the younger men. “I've done some reading on you, Dr Grindon – you are a very talented doctor in your field, and you've done some incredible things to help these people. My concern isn't that so much as the affect this may have on Pete. He's just as keen as you are to embark on this treatment, but none of you know how he'll fair once he's come out of it. I'd like to avoid disturbing him any more than he has been.”

“Understood,” Steve replied, antsy. He could feel sweat collecting between his shoulders and running down his spine.

“I realize there is no way to gauge how many sessions you will need, as you have not yet had Pete under hypnosis, but I'd like to have some sort of status report once you get an idea.”

“Absolutely; I'll fax you copies of my notes,” Grindon assured him.

“Excellent. Gentlemen, I wish you the best of luck with this, and I hope you are able to answer the questions that need answering.”

Steve and Grindon shook hands with the director and excused themselves, hurrying out of his office and out to the truck. There were a few more things to get in order before they checked Danny out, but once that was done, they had leave to treat him whenever and as long as they needed. Grindon had suggested a session a week, maybe once every two weeks, just to let Danny adjust, but Steve was tired of waiting. He understood the risks, but his desire to set his life in order was winning the war against the need to be cautious.

“Ok,” Grindon sighed, drumming his fingers against his knee as they drove. “One session a week. But no more than that, not at first. This is very delicate.”

“Could the sessions be more frequent, y'know, if he does well?”

“Perhaps. As I'd told Danny, this can be very grueling. Mental exhaustion is not unheard of and hypnosis, the whole process of digging up what are essentially repressed memories, can be _incredibly_ stressful. I really need you to understand that, Steve. I know you want your friend back, and I want to help you achieve that goal, but bear in mind: there is a distinct possibility not all of his memories will come back. Sometimes the subconscious mind stamps things down so deep we can't dig them back out, and those things are buried deep for a reason.”

“I get all of that, Mike, I do. I just... it's been almost a year now and things are _finally_ coming together. There's still a lot to do, but it's exciting to think that maybe we can go back to normal.”

Grinning, Mike reclined his seat a bit. “Normal is relative, you know.”

~*~

Chin came through with a beach house not to far from Steve's own home. The lot was quiet, small, and private, which was exactly what they'd been hoping for. Kono had managed to swing by and get it ready, making it homey and inviting for when Steve, Grindon, and Danny arrived.

“This is a nice place,” Danny remarked as they made their way into the living room. “Wouldn't be a bad place to live, you know?”

“It's on loan for the sessions, it actually belongs to some cousin or something, they rent during the winter months,” Steve was quick to point out. He was saving the information about bringing Danny home with him for after Danny got his memory back.

“Alrighy, I'm thinking we'll do a short session today, very light hypnosis, just to get you used to it,” Grindon said as he set up his video camera.

“You're gonna film these?” Danny asked, brows furrowing. He turned to Steve, “doesn't that violate some doctor-patient thing?”

“Actually, it's customary to record sessions,” Grindon explained. “Most therapists use a voice recorder, recording the session to take notes from later. I prefer the video because, during hypnosis, the body reacts to the memories like they're actually happening. Those reactions can be very important.”

Danny nodded, though he looked a bit skeptical. He got comfortable on the couch, watching as Grindon took the arm chair to the left of him and Steve the loveseat to the right. Grindon removed his sport-coat and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. He loosened his tie before putting the camera on 'record.'

“Ok, this is session one, Dr Mike Grindon treating Daniel Williams for amnesia, the cause of which is still unknown.” Grindon leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. “Danny, I'm going to need you to close your eyes and just relax. Take deep breathes, in through your nose and out through your mouth; envision your body relaxing, your muscles unwinding, that you're sinking into the couch.”

Steve watched Danny do as he was told, frown lines evident between his brows. It took him a few minutes, but eventually the tense lines of his body relaxed and he slumped into the cushions a bit more. Grindon nodded with approval and continued.

“Danny, I want you to imagine that you're walking down a long corridor. It is dim, and you can see a door at the very end, with light coming from the other side. Count down in your mind back from ten, I'll count with you, ready? Ten, you're walking, the light is getting brighter now, nine, eight, seven--”

Grindon continued this way down to one, asking Danny to mentally open the door and step into the light. Steve held his breath.

“You've stepped through the door; what do you see?”

“Snow. And... concrete.”

“Ok, good, what else? What do you hear, Danny, what do you smell?”

“I... cars, engines running and horns honking. The exhaust stinks but is overpowered by... there's a food-stand, with sausages and peppers and onions.”

“Is there a name on the food-stand?”

“Arnie's, Arnie's Italian Sausages.”

“Excellent! Do you know what street you're on, see any familiar buildings?”

“It's my beat,” Danny says, his voice sounding oddly younger. Steve leans forward, awed and curious. “I'm a beat cop and this is the route I usually walk. I hate it because it's boring and long, but towards the end I always stop and get a sausage sub, with extra peppers and onions.”

“Very good. Do you know the date, the year?”

Danny's face scrunches, his tongue poking out as he thinks. “January, after the new year. There was a blizzard the week before and there's still snow piled up on the corners. It's 1999.”

Steve releases the breath he'd taken and shoots a hopeful look at Grindon, who's smiling.

“That's excellent, Danny, very good. Did anything else happen that year?”

“Nothing important, no. I still live with my folks cause I'm trying to save money.”

“Very good, Danny. Now, I'd like for you to walk back through the door, can you do that? Walk back through the door and close it behind you.”

“Ok. I closed it.”

“I'm going to count back from three and clap my hands when I reach 'one,' at which point you will awaken. Three, two, one!” Grindon clapped once, loudly, and Danny jolted, eyes popping open.

“Whoa,” he said, staring wide-eyed, first at Grindon and then at Steve. “That was... that was nuts.”

“Do you remember anything else?” Steve asked, eager.

“Yeah... me and my brother shoveling out our parents' house after that blizzard. The snow was the really heavy and wet kind, and we ended up getting into a snowball fight a third of the way through.”

There was a look of wonder on Danny's face, like he couldn't quite believe it. He turned to Steve, slowly sitting up on the couch. “You'd told me I'd lived and worked in New Jersey before I came here; that's where that memory is from! I could smell everything and it smelled like home.”

Grindon fiddled with the camera before turning to Danny, asking “can you recall your brother's name?”

Danny frowned, thinking. He was quiet for a few minutes before heaving a sigh of disgust. “Fuck! No, I can't think of it... he's my fucking brother and I don't even remember his name.”

“Look on the bright side,” Steve said, tone light, “at least you've remembered that you _have_ a brother.”

Danny stared at him for a minute before grinning a little, nodding. He turned his attention back to Grindon.

“Can you put me back under?”

“Well... I suppose so, but only for a short period of time. As I was telling Steve, I don't want to rush this.”

“No rush, I'm just curious to see how much I can remember.”

Grindon nodded and went about putting Danny under again. This time, there was a new door at the end of the corridor he was walking down, and when he opened it, he was somewhere else.

“Danny? Tell me what you're experiencing.”

“Hospital. Fluorescent lights, that smell of antiseptic and fake lemon... I'm nervous. I can hear babies crying, and there is a man sitting next to me, but I don't know him.”

Steve's heart was in his throat; could Danny be remembering the day Grace was born? He leaned forward in his seat, bottom lip caught between his teeth as Danny continued.

“There isn't anything wrong with me; this is the maternity ward. I'm nervous, but excited, too. Every time a nurse or doctor walks out of a room, I hope they're coming to talk to me. One finally does, and he's telling me that my daughter has come into the world, that she's healthy and so is my wife. I was at work when the call came in, I missed the birth. It's killing me, but I'm here now.”

“Do you hold your daughter? How much did she weigh, what's her name?” Grindon asked, tone soothing.

“She's beautiful! Dark, like her mom, but squalling the way my Ma always says I did when I was born. We'd had names picked out but none of them seem right; we're calling her Grace. She weighs eight pounds, five ounces, and she's the most perfect thing I've ever seen.” Danny's voice chokes up a little, and Steve aches at the emotion on the other man's face as he speaks. “I've only just met her, but I love her.”

“That's very good, Danny; step back, does she age?”

“Yes... she's bigger now, walking and talking. She's so beautiful...”

“Are you in New Jersey still?”

“Of course,” Danny says, irritation clouding his voice. “Why wouldn't I be? Although, with how things are going with Rachel, I sometimes with I weren't.”

“How old is Grace now, Danny?”

“She's eight, she's eight and gorgeous and my everything and Rachel wants to take her away from me. She wants a divorce because she thinks I care more about my job than I do my family, but that isn't true! I love them, I love them so much...” Danny trails off, becoming more and more agitated the longer he speaks. Grindon shoots Steve a look before coming to kneel beside where Danny is laying on the couch.

“Danny, I'm going to need you to find that door and go back through it, ok? Go back through it and shut it.”

Groaning, a sad look on his face, Danny whines “no, I want to be with Grace! I need to be with Grace!” , and Grindon sighs, telling him that he's counting back from three. He claps and Danny jolts, sitting bolt upright and almost toppling off the couch. He's wild-eyed and staring, Grindon's hands on his shoulders and speaking softly to him.

Eventually Danny shakes himself and collapses back onto the couch, hands covering his face. Grindon silently goes to the camera and stops the recording, leveling Steve with a look before leaving the room. Steve carefully goes to sit beside Danny, timidly placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Danno?” he says, quiet, unsure.

“That's _her_ nickname for me, isn't it? That's where you got it from, my baby, my Grace.” He's practically shouting, his voice thick with tears and emotion. Steve doesn't know what to do or say, he's never been good with this sort of thing, so he just awkwardly loops his arm around Danny's shoulders and squeezes, not replying.

“Oh, my God, I remember her, everything,” he says, eyes bright with unshed tears. “Taking her home from the hospital and her first bath, her first tooth, her first _everything_. I was so happy, we were so happy, and then--” his breath hitches and his face contorts a second before his hands are up again.

“She remembers you, Danno, she never forgot,” Steve says, getting slightly emotional himself now. He wished he knew this would effect him as much as it does Danny.

“Never forgot? What?” Danny asks, confusion all over his face. He knuckles away his tears, sniffling and staring at Steve like he had ten heads. His eyes narrow slightly. “What happened.”

“Well... what do you mean? You went missing, you were gone for months before I found you in LA--”

“I know that,” he snapped, shifting so he was facing Steve. “I meant with Grace.”

“Danny...” Steve started, eyes searching. “Your parents, they... after we didn't find you and still couldn't, they couldn't deal with it anymore and they had a funeral for you. There was a service and you're... they got a memorial headstone and everything.”

“They buried me.”

“Well, obviously it was an empty casket but, yeah, they did.”

“You were there?”

“We all were; me, Kono, Jenna, Chin... Rachel, Grace.”

“My--” Danny started before cutting himself off, screwing his eyes shut for a moment before reopening them and staring directly into Steve's soul, or so it felt. “My _daughter_ attended my funeral? She—my baby girl thinks I'm dead? You—I told you to look after her!” Danny shouted then, right in Steve's face before knocking him onto the floor and pouncing. Steve wasn't expecting the assault and did his best to cover his face, vaguely hearing Grindon shouting in the background.

“How could you let them do that! How could you let her think I was dead?!”

“Danny, _Danny_ , we didn't know! When I finally found you it was well after the fact! No one knew, none of us had any idea!” Steve felt the weight lift off as Grindon got his arms around Danny's chest, hauling him off.

“Are you seriously telling me my daughter is out there somewhere with the belief that her father disappeared and was never found? Is that what you are fucking telling me?”

Steve opened his mouth to reply before snapping it shut. Danny remembered Grace, remembered his relationship and subsequent divorce from Rachel... but did he remember coming to Hawaii? Did he remember why he'd come in the first place? Telling him that Grace was on the island was decidedly not a good idea, given his current state.

“I didn't have a choice, Danny, ok. I'd looked for you for _months_ and little by little everyone else started to give up, even the rest of the team started to have doubts. Your family just... they couldn't deal with the pain anymore, the not knowing. No one had heard from you, not even Grace, so they made the call. Who am I to challenge your family? It's what they wanted, I had to abide by that, no matter how much it hurt. If I'd had things my way, I would've told them to stuff it, because I was prepared to look for you forever. I wasn't going to stop until I found you, but they didn't want to wait anymore.”

He stared at the other man, eyes pleading with him to understand. Danny stared, Grindon standing watchfully beside him. His shoulders slumped then, the wind taken from his sails. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he trudged back to the couch and sat down heavily.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you like that; I know you were doing the best you could. I just... I can't believe I forgot the most important thing in the world. I can't believe I let someone _take_ that from me.”

“It isn't your fault,” Grindon said, coming to sit beside Danny. “And we're going to piece this together, little by little.”

“I remember everything about Grace up until a point, and then it's just gone,” Danny said, eyes sad. “I remember Rachel serving me with the divorce papers, but after that it's fuzzy.”

“It'll come back, you just have to be patient,” Grindon said, patting him on the back. “That's enough for today, though; come on, we need to get you back.”

They brought Danny back to the facility; he was quiet the entire ride back, and once out of the truck he walked right in, not turning back to wave them off. Grindon commented that Danny had a lot to think about, and that he was probably exhausted. Steve agreed, but it didn't help the steady ache that had taken residence in his chest. He wanted Danny to remember his life, but at what cost? He hoped that the rest of the sessions would go more smoothly than the first one, for both their sakes.


	8. Chapter 8

Danny had a session a week after that; how long he stayed under was determined by by how agitated – or not – he became. Once he was awake, Grindon would discuss the memories with him. Steve did his best to be quiet, though it killed him to just sit there and listen. Grindon had said that anything Steve said, be it to add details or offer encouragement, could act as a sort of false memory, getting mixed up with the things Danny was remembering on his own. He needed to process the information without the help of an outside source.

Steve hated that part. He hated that he couldn't pick up a story where Danny was leaving off, or ask a question, or anything. There were points where he chewed his bottom lip so hard he drew blood.

The things Danny was remembering were scattered; childhood remembrances mixed with cases he'd worked in Jersey, incidents with friends in high school clashed with fuzzy images of nights spent with the team. He was frustrated, knowing that most of the memories shouldn't have gone together, but as Grindon pointed out, it was in Danny's nature to go off on tangents; his subconscious mind was doing the same thing.

To pass the time between sessions – there hadn't been a major case in weeks, it was like the gods were smiling down on them – Steve was re-doing the rooms of his house. The living room was a lost cause, and so after picking through anything of merit and saving things that had emotional attachment, he tossed the rest and was left with a big open space. He painted – cool blue tones, something relaxing – and found a decent area rug to take some of the hardwood and make the space more cozy. He'd found a furniture store that had decent prices and free delivery for whatever he couldn't bring home himself, enabling him to become the proud owner of a comfortable leather sectional and arm chair. The leather was in a similar tone to the hardwood of the floor, just lighter, and looked great with the paint. Steve was beyond pleased.

Once that room was complete – new furniture, a new built-in for the TV and entertainment stuff, new coffee table, lamps, and end tables – he moved onto the kitchen and dining areas, redoing the counter-tops, cabinets, and floor. He liked the round table, so he coordinated around that.

It was grunt work a lot of the time, but it passed time and made Steve feel like he was accomplishing something: he was doing this for himself, sure, but he was also doing it for Danny, for _them_. This wasn't just about Steve doing long-needed renovations on his own home, it was about him making a home for himself and Danny when all of this was done.

He refused to acknowledge that Danny's family, or Rachel, might step in and say something.

“Cause they have to find out eventually,” Steve grumbled as he armed sweat off his forehead. He was reorganizing the stuff in the attic, his dad's stuff. He'd been good, going through a little bit at a time, just here and there. If he thought about it too much, or tried to tackle too many boxes, he got overwhelmed and emotional and he hated that. No, doing it this way as easier, and besides: he needed the room for the stuff he wasn't throwing away but wouldn't fit with the rest of the house.

Coming down from the attic and wondering whether he should jump through the shower or just throw himself into the ocean, his thoughts were interrupted by his cell ringing. Frowning, he hopped down the stairs and into the kitchen, where he'd left it.

“Go, Chin.”

“Hey, thought you might be interested to know that we got a call from Sara's attending doctor.”

“Oh yeah? What, she have a relapse or something?”

“Um, sort of? Apparently she's suffering from some sort of amnesia. Not as bad as Danny's, but enough that she can't remember the last couple of months.”

Steve stopped pacing and stood in the middle of the kitchen, his mind blank.

“Say again? Last couple of months?”

“Yep; it would appear she has no recollection of Danny _whatsoever_.”

“You're shitting me!”

“No way, brah, this is straight from the doctor's lips to your ears. The night nurse had told the doctor that Sara had had some sort of episode, around two in the morning? They still have her hooked up to a few things and apparently all of her monitors were going crazy. They gave her a couple of brain scans and they're thinking she had some sort of grand-mal seizure.” Chin's tone is matter-of-fact, but even he can't kind the tiny bit of satisfaction that creeps through.

“Wait – she had a seizure and now she doesn't remember anything about Danny? They were married for six months!”

“I don't know how it works, just that it happened. Personally, I'm counting it as a win because at least now, we know for sure she won't be bothering us _or_ Danny anymore. I wouldn't wish ill on anyone, boss, but this woman? Was bad news from the start. I for one am glad to be rid of her.”

Steve pinched at the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “I can't argue with you there. Ok, call the doctor back and as them to let us know if anything else of major importance comes up, like her memory coming back or something. If not, she's no longer our concern and no longer a suspect in this investigation.”

“Already taken care of, brah. And hey, I've been meaning to ask you: how're the sessions going?”

Steve can hear the unasked questions and heaves a sigh. “Things are coming back to him in bits and pieces. Grindon said a lot of the time, the process is like putting a jigsaw puzzle together, and the puzzle is huge. Danny's got lots of stuff coming back, but none of it is in any kind of order or time-frame, and so far none of it is concrete stuff from him being here. He pretty much remembers his whole life in Jersey, but he's blocked up until Rachel serves him with divorce papers.”

“It's progress though, right? We've got a lot to be optimistic about here, Steve; just because he's slow getting us back doesn't mean we're lost to him.”

“I know, it's just frustrating to sit there and not be able to jump in.”

“Who knows, maybe the good doctor will give you a chance? You could always ask.”

Steve mulls over that after the call ends, going through the motions of showering and putting a small meal together. He hadn't considered that maybe Grindon would let him question Danny while under hypnosis; it wouldn't hurt to at least ask, and even if the doctor said no, perhaps he'd let Steve give him some questions to ask.

~*~

Grindon had decided it made more sense for him to just stay at the beach house where the sessions were being conducted, and Steve had agreed – it was easier to to do his housework without the other man hanging around. It also made the beach house feel lived in, more comfortable, which was something Danny needed.

Steve had stayed in the truck, the engine idling while he waited for Danny. He hadn't had an outburst in weeks, and his doctors were allowing him more frequent trips. He didn't go anywhere except to have his sessions with Grindon, but Steve found it reassuring nonetheless.

The smile that had been on his face fell when Danny got into the truck. Usually Danny was buzzing with talk; he was having dreams about things he remembered, and was remembering a lot more now that the lock-box inside his head had been sprung open. He'd regale Steve with stories he remembered, some of which Steve had been present for. He'd nod and smile in the right places, heart bursting with pride.

This time, though, Danny was quiet. His hands were neatly folded in his lap, and Steve kept glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, brow creasing with worry.

“So, what were you hoping to discuss with Mike today?” he asked, trying to get Danny talking about something, anything.

“I'm not sure I want to talk about much of anything, to be frank.”

The idea of Danny not having anything to say creates a ball of nausea in the pit of Steve's stomach. “Why's that?” he asks, trying to keep his tone light.

“Don't get me wrong, the stuff he's been doing has been helping, allowing me to access things I'd completely forgotten. I feel like I'm actually a _real person_ now, not just some shell or mannequin. Do you know how weird it is to talk around with no idea of who you are or what sort of person you were prior to a month before? Because let me tell you, it's terrifying. So yeah, I'm glad of the help Grindon's been giving me. It's just... I know who I was, when I was a younger man and before I was married, before I had Grace... I don't know who I am _now_. They say people change day-to-day, and I guess that's true; I came to Hawaii for a reason but I can't remember what that reason is. I'm your partner but I have no recollection of that even happening. I know I'm supposed to know you, and Chin, and Kono, and Jenna, and a whole host of other people, but I just... don't.”

He's turned in the passenger seat to stare at Steve fully now, blue eyes huge in his face, full of “I'm sorry” and “help me fix this” and “but who are you to me.” Steve does his best to keep his face a composed mask, but it's _hard_ , he can feel the cracks and fissures in his composure growing bigger and bigger.

“Grindon said it takes a while sometimes, you know, for certain things to come back; maybe the more recent stuff didn't get a chance to really stick?” Steve hears himself responding, his tone a far cry from the panic he's beginning to feel.

“What if that never comes back, though? All of the experiences I've shared with you and the team and my daughter in the last year or so: gone. I believe you when you tell me stories about cases and things, Steve; I trust you and the others not to lie to me. Those are things I'd like to have back, along with the other stuff.”

There is something floating just beneath the words Danny is speaking, Steve can feel it like a tickle in the back of his mind. There's something that isn't being said, but Steve is damned if he has the wherewithal to figure out what.

Turning into the driveway of the beach house, he gives Danny a reassuring smile and clap on the shoulder – neither of which feel reassuring at all – and follows him into the house. Grindon is already set up and waiting, and they get down to business.

~*~

Steve can tell this session isn't going to end well almost as soon as Danny is under. His face is creased with tension and fear, and he's mumbling his responses to the doctor's questions. Steve shoots looks over at the other man, but Grindon's attention is entirely focused on Danny; it's like Steve isn't even there.

Grindon has opened his mouth to ask another question, a different topic this time, when Danny says “I think they're here.”

Steve recoils back, startled, and watches Grindon, who has frozen in his chair.

“They?” the doctor asked, keeping his tone low and soothing. “Who is they, Danny?”

“Them, they're here to take me again... I don't wanna go with them, it hurt _so much_ the last time,” Danny says, face scrunched up and a frightened whine tinging his voice.

Grindon is up in a flash, adjusting the camera and grabbing his notepad, dragging his chair over to sit directly next to Danny's prone form on the couch.

“Tell me what happened,” Grindon breathes, eyes wide and his pen poised over his notebook.

“T-the first time, I was driving – I had a headache, I was 'sposed to have hung out with Steve but didn't, I was on my way home. My headache was so bad, I closed my eyes even though I knew I shouldn't because I was driving. I think I pulled over, because I got out of the car to sit on the ground. Then they—oh God, they're everywhere, all around me.”

Tears are sliding to glide down Danny's face; Steve can feel his heart breaking anew, reaches out to touch, offer comfort, but Grindon slaps his hand away, glaring before turning his attention back to Danny and asking him to continue.

“They took me after that; it was all blackness and when I woke up, I was somewhere else.”

“Los Angeles?” Grindon offered, scribbling.

“Yes.”

“Did they take you again?”

“All the time,” Danny starts before he begins crying for real, the sounds hiccuping out of him and making his speech stuttered. “I'd be gone and back before anyone noticed; they'd black it out so I couldn't remember. I think they did things b-but I'm not sure. Why did they take me? I never did anything to them and they _always_ took me!”

The more he speaks, the more hysterical he becomes. Steve can't handle anymore, tugging at Grindon's sleeve with his hand.

“Mike, I think we should stop, wake him up, he's upset--” he says, a pleading tone coloring his words. Grindon ignores him, leaning closer.

“What about that night at the hospital?”

Danny's entire body jerks and shudders at that, shivering before he starts mewling.

“They came into my room, all white lights and they were angry, because I was remembering and I wasn't supposed to be; they told me they were hurting Sara, because she wasn't doing her job, she was supposed to keep me from remembering. They bent her back almost until it broke... they hurt her and it was my fault. They hurt me too, told me they'd keep hurting me unless I stopped--”

Danny freezes, his voice cutting off sharply. Steve and Grindon sit in the sudden hushed silence, a roll of thunder echoing in the distance. _How appropriate,”_ Steve thought, wanting to wake Danny up and get him out of here; Grindon was out of control.

He didn't get a chance to do that or much of anything, though; the sudden storm turned the sky black and buried the house in gloom. A bright light, wicked electric blue like lightning except constant filled the room and Steve heard screaming suddenly; he realized after a moment that it was him.

Danny was above the couch, his spine bent like a bow, curving more than a spine should, more than what was natural, and Steve could all but hear the other man's back breaking, even over the crash and din of the thunder. A voice was speaking, Danny's lips were moving but it wasn't his voice, it wasn't even _English_ , and Steve had the sudden urge to pray.

Grindon was standing, arms out in supplication to something Steve couldn't see, something that was using Danny as a mouthpiece, and wasn't that oddly fitting? The voice was terrible, bellowing out of Danny's throat and in and out of focus. Steve was crying, he could feel it, and his first instinct was to hide behind the loveseat. It wasn't the SEAL thing to do, but nothing in his SEAL training could've prepared him for this.

The light grew increasingly bright, and as Steve shut his eyes lest he go blind, he heard the voice speak in English, telling them that this ended now or they'd take Danny forever. Grindon shouted to take him instead, and after that a crash. Steve huddled to the floor, shaking even as the electricity from the storm in the air faded. There was a thump and Steve looked up to see Danny on the floor, unmoving.

Grindon was nowhere to be found.

Scrambling over and muttering to himself “please, no, not this” Steve pulled Danny into his lap and began stroking his hair, pleading for him to wake up. Time passed, he wasn't sure how much, but at some point Danny began to stir beneath the attention of Steve's fingers.

Frowning and grasping at Steve's wrist to halt the movement, Danny squinted up at him. “Babe? What're you doing, and why are we on the floor?”

It took Steve a moment to process the question before he hauled Danny up and rained kisses down on the upturned face. Danny squirmed, grumbling and half-heartedly pushing away; Steve didn't care, kissing every inch of Danny's face before finally claiming his lips. He was done hiding.

After a second Danny responded, a questioning noise bubbling up from his throat even as he allowed Steve access to his mouth. Leaning away, Danny glanced around the room before looking back at Steve.

“For real, though, what the fuck is going on? Last I recall, I was going home. This is not home.”

Steve didn't care that Danny seemed unaware of what had happened, he was too fucking happy to get into it right then.

“Let me take you to the hospital, and I'll tell you everything.

~*~

The fact that Grindon is missing doesn't phase the rest of the team like Steve was thinking it might; after all they'd been through, at this point they were hard to shock.

Danny, on the other hand, was appalled. The entire team took turns telling him what had happened, how their investigation had gone, that his parents had had a funeral, all of it. His eyes got steadily wider and after a point it looked like his eyebrows had taken permanent residence in his hairline.

He remembered the ordeal with Sara but not how he got to LA; he remembered meeting Steve there and coming back to Hawaii; he remembered his life in New Jersey, the reason why he was in Hawaii in the first place, and who each and every member of his team was. Of his initial abduction, the blackouts, the situation at the hospital, and his sessions with Grindon, he recalled nothing. Everyone agreed this was for the best.

Damage control had to be done regarding Grindon, of course, and Steve was required to give statement after statement. There was little to go on, though, and eventually the case was taken back to LA and Grindon's offices there.

Steve didn't bother to ask for updates.

The real obstacle they had to tackle was Danny's family. He'd wept when he found out that his entire family thought he was dead, had “buried” him after six months of nothing. There was no easy way to undo that, and Steve was at Danny's elbow every step of the way. He'd have to physically go to New Jersey to see his parents and sisters; Steve had already been on the phone with Danny's folks and had spent the better part of twenty minutes listening to hysterics, curses, sobbing, and laughter.

Before he could take care of that, though, and all of the insanity it would entail, Danny needed to see Grace. Steve had wanted to call Rachel, but after what happened when he'd visited the one time before, he was nervous about doing so. Chin volunteered, speaking calmly even when Rachel started bellowing on the other end, Stan and Grace shouting in the background. It was a testament to the type of person Chin was, taking the verbal abuse until he had a chance to full explain. After that there had been excited shouts and the demand that Danny come over immediately.

The entire team went, hanging out in the driveway while Danny went up to the front door and rang the bell. Kono and Jenna flanked Steve, each holding a hand; Chin stood just behind, between Kono and Steve with a hand brace against the middle of Steve's back. The air was tense, each of them wound up tight with anticipation and apprehension.

The front door opened in slow motion, Stan's tall, sleek form filling the front entry way. He and Danny stared at each other for a moment before Stan's large hands pulled Danny into a tight bear hug. Rachel appeared not seconds later, already crying as she joined them, practically shoving Stan out of the way to wrap herself around Danny's broad shoulders.

By the time Grace arrived, the rest of the team were holding their breath and Stan, Rachel, and Danny were all crying. Grace stood stock-still in the front entry way, staring at Danny like she'd never seen him before. All of the adults were silent suddenly, and Steve could hear every word as Grace spoke.

“D-danno? Are you a ghost?” she asked, her eyes wide and her tone suspicious.

Danny knelt down in front of her, the front of his shirt soaked with tears. “No, baby girl, I'm not a ghost. I'm really here, and I missed you so much.”

“You aren't going away ever again? Promise!” Grace shouted, her voice sharp in the silence.

“I promise, Monkey, cross my heart,” Danny said, making the motion with his hand before extending his arms and beckoning her in for a hug. Grace stood still for a moment longer before her face crumpled and she hurled herself into his arms, the force knocking Danny on his ass.

Steve couldn't handle anymore, dragging his team behind him as the four of them, Rachel, and Stan crowded around Danny and held each other, crying. It was uncomfortable, half on the ground and half crouching, but none of them cared. They were whole again.


	9. Epilogue

He's pacing, checking the time and the monitor declaring flight information. The baggage claim is quiet; it's the middle of the week, an hour or so before noon on a Wednesday. Steve feels like he's been waiting for-fucking- _ever_ and so he checks his watch again, groaning when he sees its only been a few minutes.

Danny has been in New Jersey for the better part of three weeks, taking care of everything that needed to be sorted once his family had found out he was not, in fact, dead. He'd only had an odd minute here and there to call and check in, running around to speak with various relatives and family friends and old colleagues. Steve is pretty sure the other man is the epitome of exhausted, will be severely jet-lagged on top of it, and wants nothing more than to wrap Danny up in himself, keep him there forever.

However, Danny's flight back had been delayed and so here Steve was, one of maybe four people waiting to pick up luggage and friends. The baggage claim sprang to life and suitcases began to careen down the shoot, tumbling onto the conveyor belt. Steve watched the gangway, eyes wide and searching the sudden crowd.

He and Danny hadn't really had a chance to discuss the whole kissing thing, let alone Steve's feelings and the fact that Danny seemed to reciprocate them. There had been precious few minutes alone, chaste kisses stolen here and there, Steve wrapping his arms around Danny so tight the other man grumbled about lack of oxygen to the brain.

In the three weeks Danny had been gone, Steve had finished the house; it looked like a brand new place, all of the rooms modern and tasteful. He'd even turned the spare bedroom into a hideaway for Grace, enlisting her help to paint and decorate it. Grace had apologized profusely to him, crying a little and begging Steve to forgive her for being so mean; in tears himself, he'd hugged her close and told her he loved her and that he'd never doubted that she loved him, too.

The only piece missing in the puzzle was Danny. He'd sent texts here and there when he couldn't call, of little updates. The updates were always peppered with “I miss you” and “can't wait to be back.” It had made Steve's heart feel ten sizes too big for his chest.

Scanning the crowd, Steve could feel himself getting irritated; Danny's flight had landed, it didn't take this long to taxi in and unload passengers and luggage. Ready to harass an attendant, Steve froze, doing a double take as he gazed at the crowd again. Danny was making his way towards baggage, his familiar strut tired and travel-weary. Steve hurried over, catching Danny's eye and practically running to him, the two of them slamming into each other.

Steve rocked back on his heels from the force of it, arms wrapped tightly around Danny's broad back. He felt the other man return the hug, arms wrapped around Steve's waist, a contented sigh puffing against the fabric of his shirt.

They stood like that, clinging to each other, until the other people were all but gone, leaving just the two of them. Stepping apart but keeping contact via tangled fingers, Steve dragged Danny to baggage to collect his suitcase before hauling him out to the truck. Once buckled safely into the cabin, Steve leaned over and framed Danny's face with his hands before kissing him. He kissed like a dying man, starving for Danny's mouth.

Danny returned the kiss, opening his mouth for Steve and humming in response. He reached up to stroke a thumb over Steve's cheek and it was then that Steve realized he was crying. Danny leaned away and stared at him, concerned.

“Babe, what's the matter?”

“I guess I'm just really happy you're back,” Steve replied, wiping at his face.

“Well, I'm really glad to _be_ back. Now, do me a favor and take me home before I keel over.”

Steve opened his mouth to explain the situation regarding where “home” actually was, but Danny waved him off, clucking his tongue impatiently. “You moved me in, let's go already.”

Jaw dropping, Steve gaped at him for a second before putting the truck in gear and pulling out of the lot. “How'd you—who told—when did you--”

“Steven, need I remind you that I am a detective? I put two and two together, ok? My lease was up, I doubted you guys would let my stuff end up in repo... I just assumed everything had ended up at your place. Isn't like this isn't where things were headed anyway.”

“You... you aren't mad?”

“Mad? Why would I be mad? Now I get to spend even more time explaining the finer points of polite society to you... and I get to do it while we're lying in bed.”

This last is said almost like a question, like Danny isn't sure but he wants to be. Steve reached out to twine their fingers together and gives Danny's hand a squeeze.

“That's an affirmative.”

“You're a goof.” It's said with easy affection, and Steve smiles despite himself, pushing the gas a little more to get them home that much faster. Their home, the two of them plus Grace, forever, or as close to it as they can get.

Danny isn't traveling again any time soon.

 _  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These fleeting charms of earth  
> Farewell, your springs of joy are dry  
> My soul now seeks another home  
> A brighter world on high
> 
> I'm a long time traveling here below  
> I'm a long time traveling away from home  
> I'm a long time traveling here below  
> To lay this body down
> 
> Farewell kind friends whose tender care  
> Has long engaged my love  
> Your fond embrace I now exchange  
> For better friends above
> 
> I'm a long time traveling here below  
> I'm a long time traveling away from home  
> I'm a long time traveling here below  
> To lay this body down...
> 
> -Long Time Traveler, The Wailin' Jennys


End file.
